vignette

Do you remember the time when kids were kids?

2012-02-06T18:10:00.000-08:00

Did you notice that parents now no longer use baby talk to their kids? And did you also notice that parents now keep track of their children’s growth by knowing how adept they have become at using their laptops or their touch screen cellphones with Android power and Swype feature?

Our parents had it differently then. When they wanted us to chew on something, it was “nam-nam”; when they wanted us to swallow something, it was “ma-mam”. When our bladder was full, it was time to “wi-wi”; when our ass was full, it was time to “u-uuu”. And do you still remember how hard it was for our parents to make us “u-uuu” by resorting to onomatopoeia to “pump-prime” shit? Sometimes it took us too long that our parents would start spreading their necks like cobras and turning red like diyoy.

A digression: According to psychologists, this baby-talk would oftentimes lead to children developing late their communication skills. I don’t know. All I know is I had childhood friends who couldn’t produce the right sound of words even if we were already in elementary. And because there were no speech therapists then, my friends were made to eat the vagina of sows just so they (my friends, not the sows) could articulate words correctly.

Moving on: Do you still remember the time when our parents would make us stand erect as they chalk-marked our height on the wall? And do you still remember the time when entering first grade required no tests on letters, numbers, shapes and colors, just the ability to touch your left ear with your right hand wrapped over your head?

Nowadays it’s the children who speak in tongues to baffle their parents. No, I’m not talking about words like erpat and ermat morphing into tapre and tamre. Nor I am talking about tsula, the new term for kiss and orimos, the new term for having sex. Rather I’m talking about words that are coined with the intention to mislead and deceive.

As for deception, our parents had it differently then. Remember the time when our parents didn’t want us to know what they were talking by resorting to speaking in English or spelling the words? Consider the following scene.

Father (upon seeing Mother come out of the room): Mupanaw kaw?
Mother (quickly pointing her lips at you as you played with your sarsa on the floor): Careful, the little boy is listening. (Then nods at your Father.)
Father: Where to?
Mother: T.A.N.D.A.G.

Poor you! Because there was no cable TV then to teach you English or how to spell before you entered Grade One, you were clueless that a classified information had been exchanged right under your nose.

Now you remember.

*****
(photo: stolen from the Net)

My 2012 Bucket List

2012-01-26T19:54:00.000-08:00

I'm not good at keeping New Year resolutions; and anything I'm not good at I abandon. What I'm into now is doing a Bucket List.

The Urban Dictionary says that a Bucket List is a list of things to do or visit before you die. Some say it comes from the term "kick the bucket" (a euphemism for dying) while others say that it must have come from the Rob Reiner movie called "The Bucket List" in which two terminally ill men (Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson) went on a road trip to do the things they wanted to do before they died. Over time though, a "Bucket List" has come to mean a list of things you want to do or places you want to visit. Period.

My 2012 Bucket List, in no particular order, includes the following:

1. The Ayala Museum. The fact that it is the most important private museum in the Philippines, showcasing a number of exhibits that cannot be found elsewhere in the country, makes it a “must-visit” for me.

2. Corregidor. Of course we all know that Corregidor is famous the world over for its role in war and history. An island day tour to this three-mile long rock island remarkably shaped like a tadpole at the entrance of Manila Bay must be worth it!

3. Intramuros. I simply have to visit again this historic Walled City via Carlos Celdran's Walk This Way Tour. I have a hidden agendum: I want to see how Carlos Celdran does this world famous act of his because I want to do it (the walk-tour) in Tago, that is, after I’m done with mental reconstruction of our hometown of yore. You know, like where the Japanese garrison was located, where POWs committed mass suicide, where the Yamashita treasure was allegedly buried, where the Dutch priest hanged himself, etc.

4. University of San Carlos. Just to see how far has it succumbed to the lures of commercialism.

5. Watching a play at Resorts World Manila. No explanation needed.

6. Laswitan, Cortes, SDS. Been hearing how beautiful this place is. That this natural marvel is just a few kilometers from where I sit right now makes it easy to visit.

7. Holding a Summer Class for Basic Writing and Public Speaking. I need to do this to do Items 1 to 5.

Caveat to stalkers: If you see somebody wearing aviator shades with highlight on his hair in any of the six places mentioned above, it's not me!

BLESSING UNDISGUISED: the BISDAK-California LOVE PROJECT for Tago

2012-01-01T19:51:00.000-08:00

What an ispiring way to know the faces of poverty and gratitude!

Nonon Villamor pitched my way the BISDAK-California LOVE PROJECT for TAGO when Sendong was yet planning where to unleash its fury. I readily agreed, knowing the impact it would bring to Tago’s poor community. However, I kept everything under wraps for a while because though I trusted Nonon, I had experiences before where project ideas like this didn’t get past the drawing board.

I began focusing on the project in earnest only after Nonon had informed me that he had sent the money through Land Bank of the Philippines. That was days after Sendong had wrought havoc in Cagayan de Oro and Iligan. I felt guilty thinking the victims of Sendong needed the money more than my townmates. But when assistance poured in like flash flood to Iligan and Cagayan de Oro, somehow I felt better. And when we distributed the stuff to the beneficiaries of BISDAK LOVE PROJECT for TAGO (BLPT), that was when we felt much, much better. They may not be flash flood victims, but our townmates very well deserved the love from California!

I suggested to Nonon that we’d make BLPT all about food because for the poor, Christmas means having food on the table. (Forget about clothes, I told him, because Ukay-ukay joints make it easy for the poor to put clothes on their back.) But make no mistake about it, I said, because we don't want to be boxed in the usual idea that for as long as you have something for the poor, quality doesn't matter. More than us, the poor deserve something better. In short, we didn't want to distribute goods that will elicit not gratitude but bad words for well meaning people like BISDAK. And Nonon agreed when I said that we'd give them nothing less than the best, after all it’s Christmas.

Originally, we targeted 150 beneficiaries whose bundle of joy would contain the following: 2 kilos Sinandomeng rice; Alaska Milk (80 grams); Nescafe (25 grams); Milo (80 grams); 1 kilo White Sugar; Argentina Bee Loaf (150 grams); Argentina Corned Beef (200 grams); 3 Mega Sardines (200 grams); 3 Lucky Me Noodles. The total cost went beyond what BISDAK-California had sent. Fortunately Nonon gave us free rein, and so we reduced the beneficiaries to 130---excluding Kulas and six Tandag City Jail inmates who received a towel and 3 underwears each---as we didn’t want to go for cheaper substitutes of the identified foodstuff.

Though Atty. Eric Lumactod texted me to offer his and Titser Mae’s assistance in packing the goods, I just didn’t bother them knowing my nephews and nieces could handle it.

A day before the scheduled distribution on December 30, everything was set: beneficiaries had their claim coupons; goods packed and labeled with BISDAK-California; the tarp was done and the t-shirts were distributed to volunteers; the acknowledgment folder was fastened; service vehicle had been negotiated; volunteers had been briefed on their duties and responsibilities, including distribution mechanics, assembly time and place.

December 30 came and the weather showed compassion. The driver arrived earlier than the agreed time and Ramil Patrimonio, Florephi “Bingbing” Dagaang, and Emily Patrimonio were just about ready when I reached the assembly area at 8:00 AM. As agreed, the distribution sites and schedules were: 9:00-10:30 Mangga Dos (Soong); 10:40-12:00 Citrus Dos (Kasaw-kasaw); 1:30-3:00 PM (Iran); 3:20-4:00 Sapa and Boulevard; 4:10-5:00 Tandag City Jail; 5:30-6:00 Tago Terminal.

When the clock hit 8:30 and Atty. Lumactod, Daisy Luna, and Titser Sharlynmae Murillo still hadn’t arrived, we decided to go ahead. But when we reached the corner where Nonon Villamor’s house stands, Atty. Lumactod and Titser Mae popped up just like that. It was Dee who had to do catch-up.

We identified ‘Ya Dading Bautista’s house to be the distribution site because it was along the road, thus easier for us to carry and distribute the goods. We didn’t start the briefing until all beneficiaries had arrived and were done filling out the acknowledgment folder. And when I did, I hammered on what’s BISDAK-California as a group; how BISDAK LOVE PROJECT for TAGO came about; how Tago was identified as the pilot area and other pieces of information we deemed important for them to know. And because BISDAK-California happens to have two Tagon-on family members, we made sure to mention the names of Nonon and Marjorie Villamor and Robert and Razel Vaz-Cortes. We emphasized the fact that BISDAK-California had thought of this project out of pure love, and that we were just conduits of that love. Jokingly we said that we don’t have intentions of running for public office. I ended the briefing by telling the beneficiaries to offer a prayer of thanks to God and to all the members of BISDAK-California for this unexpected, undisguised blessing.

Because earlier we did scenario-building, the distribution went without a hitch. Although there were some who were not pre-identified and went to ask for their share, we politely told them that we had made ocular inspection of the sites so we could identify the most deserving beneficiaries as we didn’t have enough bundles of joy to give.

The same hitch-free distribution mechanics applied to all love sites. One thing happened in Iran that hit me where it mattered. While Bingbing was taking the video as Emily, Dee and Titser Mae distributed the goods, I was looking at the pregnant woman beneficiary as she carried the goods to one of the dilapidated houses. Too eager perhaps to see what she got, she put the cellophane bag down and opened it. And when she finally saw the contents, her eyes lit up and matter of factly said: hulog ng langit!

Manna from heaven indeed!

By the time we were done with Mangga Dos and Citrus Dos, we didn’t have spaces in our hearts to put the joy and the gratitude we all felt. As we shared lunch at Goldbar, we all agreed that BISDAK-California LOVE PROJECT for TAGO was the ultimate Prozac! But more than that, we were so privileged to be part of this very laudable project.

In the afternoon, we went to Iran, Tandag City Jail and back to Tago Terminal to distribute bundles of joy to trisikad drivers. This time, Dr. Borin Villamor joined us. We must have been efficient because we finished earlier than planned.

And because BISDAK-California LOVE PROJECT for TAGO turned out way beyond our expectations, we treated ourselves to dinner at Café La Jara in Tandag. (We still have to turn-over a special BISDAK-California love gift for Kulas.)

The BISDAK-California LOVE PROJECT for TAGO began as a collective need for California-based Bisdak to share their resources to poor families on the other side of the globe. What this group had just done to Tago is a testament that ours is a world where dreams, despite distance, can be connected by bridges of love.

To paraphrase what was printed on our t-shirt: California dreamed; Tago got its blessings! Thank you so much BISDAK-California, USA for making Christmas wishes come true in Tago!

(Note to Nonon Villamor: I’ll send you the liquidation report soon as I can finalize it.) (For more photos, please find somewhere in my FB wall two BISDAK-California folders.)

happy new year everyone!

2011-12-31T18:58:00.000-08:00

Taming the Water Dragon for some luck!

wearing Broadway on my Levi's from UK

2011-12-31T02:10:00.000-08:00

When 2011 concedes to 2012 tonight, I will be wearing Broadway on my Levi's from UK.

The boot cut, “Made in Mexico” Levi’s sold for P200 in a UK joint fronting the house of Mrs. Carmencita Montesclaros in Tandag. When I saw the “gash” on the knee, I knew it was meant for me.

I haggled for P100 but the salesperson said the lowest he could go was P150. I walked away, praying he would call me back. He did!

As I was holding my Levi’s, my mind was already going on maximum overdrive on how to jazz it up.

(it's Les Miserables!)

I went to Nong Vencio Fabor to have the gash zigzagged in the way I wanted. While the waistline was perfect for me, the length wasn’t. I was “41”, my UK Levi’s was “48”. It was painful letting go of the beautifully torn hemline.

(a repro of the painting by Cebu's famous artist but whose name shall remain a secret.)

Then I went to my artist. When I gave him the designs and he said he could do them, I had palpitations. I told him I will bid adieu to 2011 in style, he said my wish is his command.

I got my wish; he got his bonus.

2012 here I come!

(the gash details that had been zigzagged to specs! i specifically requested the artist not to smear the gash with paint.)

circumnavigating Tago for BISDAK

2011-12-26T22:49:00.000-08:00

Our goal that day was to distribute 60 BISDAK coupons; and the plan was to begin at Iran and end at Mangga Dos.

The sun was up. But not wanting to be tricked, we armed ourselves with umbrellas. I wore yellow slippers; Ramil wore blue. Inside my bag was a jumble of eyeglasses, ball pens, notebooks, coupons, candies, USB, etc.

As we hit the road, I warned Ramil to keep his bleeding heart in check. We’re targeting 150 beneficiaries only, I said.

We went to Bongtud (popularly known now as Iran) and began at the same exact spot where we (Atty. Lumactod and Titser Mae) had left off a week ago. I took charge of writing the names and issuing the coupons while Ramil, the interviewing: Are you a member of 4 Ps? How many children do you have? What’s your work? Where do you get your food?

From Iran we went to Boulevard. Surprisingly, the community there was quite “well-off” compared to Iran, with some having tv and washing machine. Only a few coupons were distributed. When we reached Sapa, Ramil saw that some houses were leaning and half done. And because they are my neighbors, I've already pre-identified them.

It began to rain as we proceeded to Kasaw-kasaw, a community in Duma-duma that thrives on the waterfront of Tago River. Some houses have torn blankets as walls, others have nipa shingles with holes. It was a vision of poverty at its starkest!

Then we proceeded to the inner sanctum of Citrus Dos where most men and children were naked from the waist up, with skin made darker by years of fishing and weaving nipa under the harsh sun. As we waded through muddy waters, I told Ramil that we might get alipunga. His rebuke came quick: "Saba Romel, wa gani alipungaha iton carabao na permi galatak nan lapok."

"Kay may sapatos san mga yapating naman," I retorted.

Because some houses stand right smack in the river, we had to negotiate an unsteady and uneven foot bridge no wider than a child’s stretched thumb and middle finger. Things got a bit unwieldy because I had to maintain my balance while pressing the umbrella handle between my jaw and shoulder and writing the names in my notebook and making sure it doesn’t get wet from heavy rains. We prodded on until a foot bridge broke and I fell, leaving a scratch on my left leg. Ramil and I just laughed it off, blaming each other for being overweight. Since then, Ramil told me to keep myself at bay and leave it to him to get the names.

Then following a foot trail that overflowed with rain water, we headed for Soong and Mangga Dos. By this time, our umbrellas were already disfigured as many times they had caught either a clothesline or a branch. Though we’re both cynophobic, Ramil agreed to walk ahead of me, stopping dead on his track every time a dog barked its presence.

I remember visiting the same community 30 years ago when a typhoon hit Tago and as Seniors at Purisima School we distributed bundles of joy along with the SPC nuns. The community has grown, alright, but so do misery and poverty.

Every way we looked, poverty stared at us and never blinked.

But a situation like this doesn’t lack irony. We were in what could be the poorest section of Tago when a motorcycle arrived to deliver a purified water to one of the nipa shacks. As Ramil was busy interviewing potential beneficiaries, I did my own with the children. They may be poor, but they had names like Heathcliff, Jefferson, and Cauliflower. A baby sleeping on a makeshift hammock was named Obama while another child playing on the bamboo floor with a broken toy was named Shrek. I could only hope the parents got the spelling of the last one correctly, otherwise they’re better off naming their child Scream.

We went home past lunch time. Ramil was dripping wet but he seemed not to mind as he was always smiling. I bathed soon as I reached home, had lunch, and hit the bed. When I woke up I felt mild body pains everywhere. As I felt an onset of fever, I took Bioflu, then ate some Christmas leftovers from the fridge, and went to Emily where we had another good laugh about our circumnavigating Tago in half-a-day.

kulas

2011-12-21T23:05:00.001-08:00

Kulas used to be Tago’s minstrel. Everybody remembers him as the person to go to if one wanted to audition for amateur singing contests in the 70s and 80s. A virtuoso in stringed instruments, Kulas shares his talent without counting the cost to interested Tagon-on musicians in the making.

But poverty has robbed Kulas of his music and his gift. He longs for those nights when the sky is sequined with stars and the moon is full and he sits by the window of his hovel, evoking stories of sadness and truth from the tired strings of his battered guitar.

Give Love on Christmas Day

2011-12-18T18:19:00.000-08:00

Yesterday afternoon I sent Atty. Eric Lumactod a text message if he was free at 4 PM. When he asked why, I said I wanted him to join me in making an ocular inspection of the area where the targeted beneficiaries of BISDAK (Bisaya Inspired to Serve and Do Acts of Kindness), California-USA live. I'll make time, he said. I also sent another text message to Japan but she had already left for Tandag with Bingbing.

Atty. Eric and I met at the corner of Purok Calamansi. We went to the house of his batchmate, Teacher Mae, so she could come with us. While walking, he suggested to coordinate with purok president for the identification of beneficiaries. While it's a good idea, I have reservations because it can be tainted with politics. To this Teacher Mae agreed.

On our way to Bongtud it rained and the ever-ready Teacher Mae had brought an umbrella. What we saw in Bongtud broke our hearts. There was this shack no bigger than our toilet but three households live under it. If poverty and squalor had a face, we had come face-to-face with it yesterday. And I tell you, it's not a pretty face.

I've also made a survey of the inmates in Tandag. I have requested my officemate Bema, the wife of the Provincial Head of the Bureau of Jail Management and Penology, to request Ping to float the questionnaires. Today she gave me some of the filled out forms.

Here's hoping this BISDAK-coordinated love project will come into fruition because a lot of less fortunate Tagon-ons will surely have a merry Christmas.

campo montero

2011-12-15T18:56:00.000-08:00

If not for the relentless text messaging of Belen Pareja-Laurente, I wouldn’t have attended the opening of Tago’s newest watering hole, Campo Montero, even if earlier that day, the owner had sent somebody to our office to invite me and another officemate. The fun starts at 5:30, the boy said as he left, like it was an afterthought.

I drove home braving the heavy rains at around half past five, reported to my post at Emily’s at around six and headed back home after a while to have dinner at 7:30. Then Bebel’s text messages started coming. And so at around 9:00 Gly and I walked under a drizzle to Campo Montero at the corner of Espinoza and Falcon Streets, just a block and a half from home.

The place blazed with tiny lights and crawled with people. Pitched at the center was a humungous San Miguel Beer tent in blood red. When I saw Aldrin Montero, SMC-Tagum’s top gun, in some corner, I knew why.

I went there as a freeloader and so I knew not if the sisig I munched and the 7-up and San Mig Lite I drank at the table that Josie Montero led us to were on the house or not. (It was opening night, remember?) But later, when Manong Lalo Medrano arrived, joined us, and made us order more sisig and beer, the tab got picked and paid!

I’m a virtual non-drinker and I’m on diet because my blood sugar has gone amok. I went there to strike a good conversation with friends and strangers and I got it from Campo Montero owners: young entrepreneurs-slash-cousins Toto Campomanes and Mikey Montero . I know these kids, Toto most especially, because while growing up they used to spend a portion of their summer vacation in Tago, staying with their Lola Awi whose house was just a stone’s throw from ours.

Campo Montero's tarp said it’s a wifi area but when I requested Josie to ask for the password, she came back with nothing. What was within range though was the “Laurente Family Network” but just the same, I wasn’t able to post my FB status in between stuffing my mouth with sisig because the connection was slow.

“We want this to be a family-oriented resto bar,” Toto said after he introduced me to Mikey. He added that it was also what Aldrin, another cousin, suggested.

“Do you have plans of putting a videoke machine?” I said, wanting to make sure.

Toto looked at Mikey and they both smiled. “No,” he said.

Halleluiah! Hearing Toto say that was like hearing angels sing. I mean, who needs another seedy videoke bar where your putting-up with unruly kids and injured vocal chords can make you want to go ballistic?

I want these young entrepreneurs to succeed not only because they're my neighbors but because big investments are involved and Campo Montero might just redefine Tago’s night life. That said, I gave them tips culled from my lectures as part time instructor at the graduate school of business in Tandag and from the numerous business seminars the Department of Trade and Industry had sent me to.

“Just be very sure of your target market,” I told Toto and Mikey. Will you go for preppies who just crowd the place and order a Junior Lapad enough to last them the whole night or go for yuppies whose disposable income puts them in the position to pay big in exchange for a cozy, quiet, and relaxing night?

I also told Toto and Mikey to go for branding. What are the things they want to associate Campo Montero with? Is it the food? Is it the service? Is it the ambience?

I felt I had shared enough things that night for Toto and Mikey to chew on. And here’s hoping they’ll think about them because as it is, there’s a host of concerns they need to address immediately. And I’m not even talking about the comfort room and the way the place is configured.

I can only wish these people good luck. But wait, did I say the sisig was good?

"bT3" grand finals

2011-12-12T16:55:00.000-08:00

When the lights went out and the “bT3” video rolled to the strains of “Eye of the Tiger”, shrieks came from all corners. And when dancers darted from the wings and cart-wheeled to the center stage amidst swirls of fog, bubbles and strobe lights, the SRO crowd went wild with excitement!

And thus began the grand finals of “bT3” on 8 December 2011 at 9:00 PM at Tago Gym.

“bT3” had come a long way. What started as a seemingly far-fetched idea became a resounding success as more and more Tagon-ons came out of the woodwork to have their talents known! Since its maiden show on 1 October 2011, “bT3” had done a total of eight cycles, producing 56 auditionees. Of these, 48 got to perform but only 26 got through the semi-finals. Of the 26 semi-finalists, only 12 made the cut to the grand finals and had their moments of glory.

“bT3” is a talent show, and because talent is known to straddle a wide spectrum, the organizers, just for the grand finals, had formulated a generic set of criteria that included Overall Performance (50%), Audience Response (20%) and Entertainment Value (30%). This set of criteria became the tool by which the grand prize winner was picked. And that night the herculean task of playing God rested on the hands of the following jurors: Daisy Luna, Marcelinita Pareja, Maria Isabel Dolon-Insame, Ronaldo Paderes, and Ramonito Tan.

The competition was fierce and the talents presented were diverse: four sang, six danced, one did a stand-up comedy act, and another mixed lip synchronization with acting and fire dance. In the end, the jurors were unanimous in awarding Raffy Lastimoso of Purok Tambis the grand prize because of his unique and incomparable “krumping”, a form of dancing that originated in the Afro-American community that is expressive and highly energetic. The Virus Crew, composed of agile, graceful, and good looking youngsters from Dayoan won second while Vange Quico of Cagdapao won third with his effortless handling of a stand-up comedy act that made fun of gays and game shows.

“If this is not world-class entertainment, I don’t know what is,” Mayor Henrich M. Pimentel said in his speech. He must have been very impressed with the quality of the performances and the way the show was handled that he announced he would increase the “bT3” budget next year from P50,000 to P100,000! The crowd roared with appreciation!

The “bT3” grand finals handed out the following prizes: P5,000.00 for the 2nd Runner Up; P6,000.00 for the 1st Runner Up; and P7,500.00 for the Grand Prize Winner. The winners also received trophies. The non-winners got P1,000 each as consolation prize. All these cash bonanzas were made possible by financially talented Tagon-ons who shared their resources and love, namely: Hon. Henrich M. Pimentel and Tago LGU (P50,000); Ms. Sherlita Montero-Sumalpong of Guam (P30,000); Mr. Jonathan Portillo of Dubai (P5,000); Atty. Roberto P. Lozada (P3,000); Brother and sister Sherwin and Felisa Portillo (P1,000); and Ms. Judy Ann Cag-ong Gonzales of Saudi Arabia (P1,300). Another set of sponsors provided snacks to contestants, jurors, and members of the Dream Team throughout the first season of "bT3", thus: Dr. Laiden Elizalde-Oliguiber, Emily Patrimonio, Steve and Angely Yu, Dr. Gemma Young-Ardines, Milagros Paqueo, Mary Grace Elizalde and TT and Company.

“bT3” would have remained on the drawing board if not for the people who gave their unconditional support by doing what was expected of them even if it meant working behind the scene, beyond the spotlight’s glare. As members of the “bT3” Dream Team, the following people had done much, thus: Maria Elena Dolon-Pimentel, Emily Patrimonio, Nicolas Laurente, Belen Laurente, Christian Castillo, Vincent Namalata, Florephi Dagaang, Maria Isabel Dolon-Insame, Peter Espinola, Rollie Suazo, Jose Olvida, Olympia Escalante, Francisca Suazo, Dulce Jasmin, and Erwin Besina.

Hosted by Romel M. Oribe, “bT3” was organized by the Local Government Unit of Tago headed by Hon. Henrich M. Pimentel, the Sangguniang Kabataan Federation of Tago chaired by Hon. Nnekka Marie P. Laurente, and I-Love-Tago Movement.

2011-11-22T17:59:00.000-08:00

Hey, Mr. Marvin Wilson: Are you talking to me?

Truth be told, I used to write like that. And looking back, I could only laugh at myself for not knowing better. But guess that happens to the best of us. Especially when we're just starting.

My acceptance to two of the country’s most prestigious writing workshops helped a lot in exorcising my writing with superfluous adverbs and adjectives. Adverbs, most especially. And I’m glad I’ve heeded the advice of Strunk and White (“The Elements of Style”) to write with nouns and verbs, not with adjectives and adverbs.

But it wasn’t easy.

Adjective as part of speech is a word which describes or gives more information about a noun or pronoun. By that definition, I had this mistaken notion before that the only way one can describe a person or thing is through adjectives. Same with adverb. I thought it’s the only tool to modify a verb.

But like I said, it wasn’t easy ridding my writing with adverbs and adjectives. Okay, most.

Then I discovered Mark Twain. In 1878 he wrote Orion Clemens a letter, thus: God only exhibits his thunder and lightning at intervals, and so they always command attention. These are God's adjectives. You thunder and lightning too much; the reader ceases to get under the bed, by and by.

In "Pudd’nhead Wilson", Twain again said that when in doubt, strike adjectives out.

I, too, used to overwrite. I was wordy and had the tendency to over-explain as though my readers (all three of them!) were barely out of kindergarten. But then again, I discovered Mark Twain. In 1880 he wrote D. W. Bowser a letter, thus: I notice that you use plain, simple language, short words and brief sentences. That is the way to write English--it is the modern way and the best way. Stick to it; don't let fluff and flowers and verbosity creep in. When you catch an adjective, kill it. No, I don't mean utterly, but kill most of them--then the rest will be valuable. They weaken when they are close together. They give strength when they are wide apart. An adjective habit, or a wordy, diffuse, flowery habit, once fastened upon a person, is as hard to get rid of as any other vice.

In my case, I'd like to think that I had tamed the beast within. Thanks to Strunk and White who told me to omit needless words.

But like they say, old habits are hard to break and I have my lapses. But only on occasion. See? I didn’t say occasionally.

tinuy-an falls: its etymology

2011-11-21T18:55:00.000-08:00

A certain Mr. Loel Lamela is submitting Tinuy-an Falls to a contest sponsored by the Department of Tourism. In the accompanying description of his photo, Lamela related the etymology of "Tinuy-an". Though am sure he had a reliable source, I wanted to validate it because I myself don't know where did the word "Tinuy-an" come from. And so I sent a text message to Ms. Lorie Lim, the Tourism Officer of Bislig City. She texted back in Visayan with two versions.

The first version according to Ms. Lim is that the environs of Tinuy-an Falls were once inhabited by datus who pysically and sexually abused the natives. Wanting to exact revenge, the natives one day first planted impaled bamboo poles (locally known as suyak) underwater before going up the next tier to lie in wait.

Days passed; still they waited. When their chance finally came, the natives commandeered the boat that carried the datus and pushed it toward the edge---into the deadly abyss. Fearing retribution from the datus' family, the natives then jumped to their death en masse.

The verb "tuyo" (stress on the second syllable) is the Visayan root word for "suicide". As noun, "Tinuy-an" therefore means the site of the tragic mass suicide.

The second version states that during the olden days, there was no beaten track leading to Tinuy-an Falls. To go there, one had to "make time and find a way" which, in Visayan, translates to "tuyuon" which is both a verb (no stress) and an adjective (stress on the 3rd syllable).

Just a side note: The second version sounds forced because if one exercises logical thinking, the falls should have been named "Tuyuon".

Whatever!

Tourists flocking to Tinuy-an Falls have a choice: if they want blood and gore, then it's version 1 for them. If they want something that strains credulity, then it's version 2 for them.

(Note: I stole the photo from 365 Great Pinoy Stuff.)

posthumous parental citation

2011-11-16T20:30:00.000-08:00

Two sleeps ago, I received a white envelope addressed to the “Family of Late Judge Benjamin A. Oribe Sr.”. It was an invite from the Local Government Unit of Bayabas to attend the Gala Night on 19 November 2011 at 7:00 PM at the Gym to receive the posthumous award for our father as former judge of Bayabas and for our mother as pioneer teacher. This is in connection with Bayabas celebrating its 50th year as town.

A fusion of nostalgia and sadness. That’s what I felt after reading the citation.

I was in elementary when Papa wielded a gavel at his sala in Bayabas. During vacation, he would tag Gly and I along. We looked forward to this summer episode as it meant riding a pump boat and dropping by Lapaz to see friends and relatives.

Two things I loved most about our Bayabas sojourn: the sumptuous dinner given by Papa’s closest friend, Carlos Yu, who had a big house next to where Papa lived, at the house of Tio Julio Quijada; and the boating and swimming adventure to this rocky paradise whose waters were sparkling and clean and whose tiny caverns held lato ready for the picking.

When swimming, Gly and I were assigned a lifeguard each. I don’t know if they were priso cavallero, all they said was that they were Papa’s bodyguards. Sadly I have forgotten their names and all that my memory has retained is the surname “Palacio”.

Tio Julio, his wife, and children were nice. We were closest to Lalay though because she was our contemporary. One time, during high school, Lalay and I belonged to the same contest category in a competition held in Tandag.

Because Papa would go home to Tago on Fridays, we’d stay in Bayabas for a full week. And if he saw boredom on our face before TGIF came, he’d make Palacio whisk us off to Lapaz. And there, in the company of friends and relatives, we would wait for Papa to lead us home.

I loved Lapaz then. Still do, actually!

The birthplace of our mother, Lapaz holds beautiful memories for us that until the day we die, it will have a special place in our hearts.

In Lapaz we were pampered, doted on, and given special attention not because we had a judge for a father, but because we were family. Nanay Can(dida), our yaya and Mama’s first cousin, was a perfect surrogate mother who indulged and loved us to pieces.

We enjoyed Lapaz so much that there were Fridays only Papa would go home to Tago. And Mama would not bother to check on us because she knew we were having fun and were in good hands.

Last May, during the 1st Morse Reunion that I had organized in Lapaz, a cousin showed me the site of the school where Mama studied. I was near tears even if a new school—Tabing Dagat Elementary School---has been erected.

Mama and her sisters, all eight of them, were teachers. For the record, Tia Mameng (the late Maxima L. Morse-Cesar), their eldest, was the first teacher that Lapaz---and probably Bayabas----had ever produced.

Papa and Mama’s citation on the occasion of the Golden Anniversary of Bayabas may have come a bit late, but we are happy that the legacy they had left behind has endured and is now being acknowledged.

We’re grateful and honored.

christmas cards

2011-11-09T19:32:00.002-08:00

If there’s one thing I miss about Christmas of old, it’s sending closest friends Christmas cards. For the longest time I’ve been wanting to but never got around to doing it. Hopefully this year could be it.

As a UCCP kid in Tago, I used to look forward to seeing beautiful Christmas cards arrive from USA even before the start of the Season of Advent. In sizes like bond papers folded in quarters and in halves, these “stateside” charmers came in good quality card stock and embossed with Yuletide images in colors that glowed and glittered, making them totally superior to those sold locally that came with dull images stamped on cheap paper.

But these cards were pre-owned.

And so I held a card in midnight blue with nothing but the golden silhouettes of three magi and their camels following a star distant and solitary. Velvety to the touch, the card was visually powerful it would transform me into one of my favorite Bible story characters: a shepherd awaiting the birth of the Messiah. But then I would flip the card and get teleported back to the present with these words: “To Scott” and “Mr. and Mrs. Leivobitz”.

Looking back, it seemed Americans were lazy to write words on the card other than their names and the recipient's. Or it could be that they knew these cards would find their way to Tago for reuse of Protestant families that they made sure not to do so much scribbling. Either way it was a good thing because all we had to do was cut strips of colored paper and superimposed them on “Scott” and “Mr. and Mrs. Leivobitz” before giving the cards to our elementary teachers and some really special friends.

While technology makes it easy for people to send e-cards now, there’s nothing like receiving something that you can read over and over again without having to push a button and click a mouse. For a tactile person like me, I need to touch and smell the card.

Being the world’s greatest procrastinator, I’m really hoping I could send beautiful cards with equally beautiful messages of gratitude and appreciation to special friends before 2011 bids adieu. And knowing I only have few special friends, that won’t be too hard to do. Still, wish me luck. And you don't have to be a special friend to do that.

DREAMS

2011-11-09T00:11:00.000-08:00

I used not to believe in dreams especially if they're about dead people.

We were brought up to believe that dead persons communicate with us through our dreams, that it's their way of asking us to pray for them. I've listened to countless variations of this theme, the most vivid of which came from Mother Honey Patrimonio. In her dream, her Nanay Pacing told her she felt cold, so cold her teeth chattered. Mother Honey woke up crying; Pacing had been dead for years and it was her first time to dream of her.

It was raining when she went to Tago cemetery later that day and there she discovered that the roof above the tomb of her Nanay Pacing had been toppled, and the rainwater coming from the roof of the adjacent tomb flowed directly to her grave.

While I respected these tales for whatever they were worth, I was not inclined to believe them. Is this because I don’t like talking about dead people? Maybe. Here’s a secret: the easiest way to ruin my day is to ask me or talk about dead members of my family. Dead friends okay, but not my family! Do that and you cease to be my FB friend in two seconds flat!

Nobody saw me visit the graves of my parents during All Souls Day of 2010. It had something to do with my siblings not telling me that the structure over our parents’ graves was in such state of disrepair that it had to be demolished. I got wind of the situation two days before the annual celebration of the dead. There was no way I could construct a new one without turning into my greatest pet peeve---people cleaning and painting graves on November 1!

And so I passed. That year I also didn’t make unique flowers for the dead, to the dismay of Elaine Pareja and Nita Manzano who have this habit of eagerly awaiting the floral magic I whip up every single year.

Tanie, my brother, went home to Sagbayan after I had decided to do the construction early next year as it was already rainy season. But three days later, I dreamed of my father.

In my dream, Papa put his hand over my shoulder and walked me through an area where four posts stood at certain corners. He pointed from one corner to another and told me numbers I realized to be dimensions. When I woke up, I wrote the numbers on a piece of paper. Then I sent Tanie a text message, telling him to come back to construct the structure that would house our parents’ graves.

When I told ‘Yo David and Tito Vols about this, Marites quickly applied mathematical operations to the numbers, came up with last-two combinations, and placed a bet on them. She lost!

Last October, Emily told me that Heledeza Elizalde-Rubio of New York had sent her money for the upkeep of her parents’ graves because she had dreamed of them. I smiled. But this time not the mocking smile of a non-believer, but the smile of someone who knows there are things he just has to believe in.

my letter to sammy

2011-09-22T19:26:00.000-07:00

Dear Sammy,

Your FB status says you’re at Kaiser Permanente Pediatrics but something in me says this is not true. Knowing you to love la dolce vita, you’re at---and I’m guessing now---Grand Sheraton or Hyatt Regency in downtown Sacramento. Of course that’s assuming you’re not in Beverly Hills enjoying the world’s most expensive and extravagant spa treatments like getting a facial made of gold; having a massage with diamonds in hot rocks; taking a bath in beer; dipping yourself in fountains of wine; washing your hair (whatever’s left of it) with fishy caviar; and having pedicures made of rare edibles like White Chocolate Raspberry Truffle!

If there’s one thing you do best, it’s pampering yourself in style! And you deserve it because you don’t only work hard, it’s your birthday.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SAM!

I always take pride in saying that I have few friends---if that's being choosy, then shoot me!--- but these are the friends I want to grow old with. And you’re one of them. No, this is not because we belong to the same Church or you lavish me with things that others can only wish for: Oscar de la Renta? Check! Ferragamo? Check! Armani? Check! Hugo Boss? Check! Cartier? Hmmmm….;p

You’re one of the few people who can truly make me laugh. And it amuses me no end when you, knowing misspelling and wrong grammar make me want to go ballistic, attempt to kill me with your “spelling” skills. But that’s one quirk I like in you.

We go way back, you and I. Remember the thing that happened at the gangplank of Cokaliong? Or the time when I was treated for thyroid cancer at Cebu Doctors Hospital and you kept me company even from a distance because I was exuding radioactive stuff? I may not have articulated verbally my gratitude to you, but I really appreciate what you did. And it’s something I will treasure for the rest of my life.

I’m so proud and happy for you for rearing a beautiful family. I know you’re not a perfect father---who is?--- but I’m sure Gian and Jacob will never trade you for Donald Trump or Brad Pitt. I’m not sure though with Helena, especially the Pitt thing. Hahahaha! Joke.

Because you’re a dear friend, it is my prayer that God will continue to bless you in your journey towards becoming a better father, husband, and friend. And it is my wish that you get everything your heart desires because you deserve it.

We love you. Happy birthday, Sam.

My Letter to God

2011-09-06T16:34:00.000-07:00

Dear God,

Today I celebrate my birthday at my ugliest. My face, head, neck, chest, back, and arms have blisters all over them. That You let this happen on the week of my birthday makes me think that trapped inside each tiny bubble in my body is a message.

So: Is this my comeuppance, my greatest vices being pride, vanity and arrogance?

But You’re not petty, I know; and so I look at my contracting chicken pox as something that happened not because I was bad, but because a naughty varicella virus found me and made me a Xerox machine.

Still, it got me thinking.

A well-meaning friend, after knowing I’m on self-imposed isolation, told me to do retrospection. Thing is, I’m no fan of Socrates who said that an unexamined life is not worth living. I’m not into looking back at events ---good or bad--- because it would only invite regrets, and I have enough regrets as it is. It’s enough for me that I’ve asked forgiveness for my sins and whispered my prayers of thanksgiving and that’s about it. But of course You know this already, right?

Then the same friend suggested I do introspection instead. OMG! Oopps, sorry, I’m not supposed to say "Oh-My-God" before my God. But this friend doesn’t know when to quit and now wants me to talk to myself to know why I am what I am. For crying out loud, is she nuts? She should have been the one You afflicted with chicken pox and not me! Joke.

But let’s indulge her even just this once. Four years from today I’ll be half a century old, and You know what, God? If there’s one thing I need to be clarified on, it’s this: Why is it that people form adverse opinions about me on the sole basis of what they hear from others? Not that I care, but sometimes it bothers me. Really! And oftentimes I blame You—hahaha—because what causes all this bad rep is Your giving me the gift of being able to speak my mind with such brutal honesty. My gift is my curse, yes, and thanks to You.

Will I change my ways now that I’m celebrating my birthday with horrid marks on my skin? Will I stop caring about excellence and let mediocrity become the norm so people will warm up to me and request me to become their FB buddy? Will I hang my brutal honesty out to dry in order to launch a campaign for Mr. Nice-and-Easy? No, God, sorry. Even if You make this ordeal last forever, I still don’t want to be a bore.

By the way, just a bit of digression. If there’s one person most affected by what You’ve put me through, it’s Bugsy. You see, he and his friends are expecting another treat to the fiesta carnival in Tandag just like what they had two years ago. As I write this he’s sulking, knowing that it’s not possible anymore because surely his Dad won’t go out with a hood over his face or put him and his friends at risk of being infected. There’s always next week, You say? Too late, the carnival leaves town day after the fiesta. You know more about kids than I do and so don’t blame me if Your inbox brims with text messages that contain menacing emote-icons from Bugsy and the poor kids in my neighborhood accusing You for being such a kill-joy!

God, I know that You know that I just want to have fun with You today through this letter. And Mike Posner in the background doing a cover of Adel’s “Rolling in the Deep” as I write this can attest to the lightness of the situation. But the same lightness of situation needs to be set aside for a while because I want to say a few heartfelt lines. You see, I’ve lived long enough to know this much to be true: that You are a God of deliverance; that You are a God who listens and provides; and that You are a God who loves beyond measure no matter what. For these and more, I could only bend my knees in prayer. Thank you very, very much!

Please stop feeling guilty for what You’ve done to me because I truly understand. I’m ugly today, yes, but who cares? I’m alive and it’s my birthday!

Love you much, God.

RMO

PS

If you promise to leave only one pockmark on my face, I won’t delete my FB friends who won’t post a comment on my wall.

skimboarding (last dakan gayud, 'mor pa!)

2011-08-23T20:07:00.000-07:00

As i wrote earlier in this blog, serendipity started it all!

Last summer we went to the backside of the cemetery near Bongtud to see the extent of damage wrought on tombs by huge waves. Done, we didn't back track, instead we walked along the shore toward the FMES area. And that was when we saw boys riding the wash of waves in their crude woodie board.

Impressed and wanting to inspire them, I told them to practice and make good for we might organize a skimboarding competition come Araw ng Tago. Because it was nothing but a whimsical spur-of-the-moment statement, I forgot about it. But what did i know? Two weeks before Araw ng Tago, these boys looked for me to ask me of my promise. Without hesitation I said it's a go!

Leap of faith, yes!

That night my mind went on maximum overdrive. By daybreak, I had my blueprint.

Early that day, I sent a text message to Gov. Johnny T. Pimentel, saying I need P15,000.00 for prizes and trophies. He texted back, saying he would shoulder it. Just like that.

I sent another text message to Engr. Nick Laurente and his wife Bebels, saying I want SK-Tago to be a co-sponsor of the activity and as such, SK should shoulder the cost of two snacks and one lunch for 70 people. (Their daughter Dimple is the SK Federation Chair of Tago.) The ever reliable husband-and-wife team said no problem, even adding that SK-Tago would pay for the tarpaulin. Just like that.

I prepared a nice and novel solicitation letter and asked Mayora Tata Pimentel (who earlier had joined the "I-Love-Tago" Movement) if it was okay to send one to Cong. Philip A. Pichay. (Remember that if there's one thing I hate with a passion, it's soliciting for funds.) She said she would handle it, adding that Mayor Henrich said that he would review the budget of Araw ng Tago to see if he could take charge of the balance of our event's budget. Cong. Pichay and Mayor Pimentel would later shell out P10,000.00 and P10,500.00. Just like that.

Though I made solicitation letters for the Vice Governor and all SP members, I only sent two for Vice-Gov. Mange Alameda and his son, SDS SK Federation Chair JR Alameda. They gave P5,000.00. Just like that.

The next day I was chatting with US-based Gemmadel Medrano, a fellow Seagull,and mentioned to her the event. She said she'd give P2,000,00. Another Seagull Emily Patrimonio gave P400.00. Just like that.

Out of respect, I sent solicitation letters to all members of the Municipal Council of Tago. Only Vice Mayor Alex Bautista (P200.00), SB Tata Yu (P500.00) and SB Al Espinoza (P500.00) showed support. Another solicitation letter to Ex-Mayor Jun Pimentel yielded P1,000,00.

Mayora Tata Pimentel and Ms. Gingot Dolon-Insame conceptualized and actualized the unique trophies made of stenciled tin mounted on narra driftwood. Mayora also made the bannerettes, flaglets, and wind cones that made the venue festive. Special mention to Mayor Roxanne Pimentel for lending us the tent that sheltered our judges. A lot of nameless people supported the event and we couldn't thank them enough.

The Statement of Receipts and Disbursements, now a matter of public record, showed a surplus of P13,020.00. (Because it came after the preparation of the financial statement, the P250.00 printing cost of thank-you card charged by Bag-ong Subang is yet to be deducted.)

"I-Love-Tago" Movement made the 1st Tago Skimboarding Competition happen.

thank you so much

2011-08-18T20:42:00.000-07:00

The 1st Tago Skimboarding Competition was successful because of the following, thus:

* Hon. Johnny T. Pimentel (15,000.00);
* Hon. Philip A. Pichay (10,000.00);
* Hon. Henrich M. Pimentel (10,500.00);
* Hon. Manuel O. Alameda Sr. (3,000.00);
* Hon. Manuel F. Alameda Jr. (2,000.00);
* Hon. Nneka Marie P. Laurente (for taking care of food and snacks and tarp);
* Ex-Mayor Hermenegildo P. Pimentel Jr. (1,000.00);
* Hon. Alejandro S. Bautista Jr. (200.00);
* Hon. Wilfredo M. Yu (500.00);
* Hon. Aloysius R. Espinoza (500.00);
* Ms. Gemmadel L. Medrano (2,000.00);
* Ms. Emily O. Patrimonio (400.00) ;
* Ms. Roxanne C. Pimentel (for lending us the tent);
* Dr. Earl Cloyd Mira (for judging the contest);
* Mr. Veni Vidi Vici Suarez (for judging the contest);
* Mr. Rey Mcfe Tutor (for judging the contest);
* Ms. Maria Isabel P. Dolon-Insame (for facilitating some things even if she's in Quezon City);
* Ms. Victoria L. Quinonez;
* Engr. Vidal M. Luna (for providing the "portable sounds" during the opening);
* Mr. Junde Espinoza (for promoting the tilt on FM radio);
* Mr. Richie Lisondra and Ms. Mekmek Cruz (for facilitating the release of Gov. Pimentel's commitment);
* Ms. Anelie Manzano (for facilitating the release of Mayor Pimentel's commitment);
* Barangay Council of Purisima (for acting as fund conduit);
* Hon. Jug Gundran (for reading the contest mechanics during the program)
* PNP personnel (for controlling the crowd);
* Drivers of dumptruck and service vehicle;
* Casual employees (for doing tasks we couldn't do ourselves);
* Trisikad drivers;
* Mariele's governess;
* Prayer warriors (for bending their knees for the activity to enjoy fine weather);
* Nameless others who, without our knowledge, did something that contributed to the success of the tilt;

and most specially,

* the skimboarders who provided us with great entertainment!

WE OWE YOU BIG! Thank you very much.

I-LOVE-TAGO Movement
***
Ms. Maria Elena P. Dolon-Pimentel
Engr. Nicolas C.Laurente
Ms. Belen C. Pareja
Romel M. Oribe

jevan, the skimboarder

2011-08-17T20:47:00.000-07:00

Jevan is a child of the sea. And when skimboarding began gaining popularity this side of the Pacific Ocean, he practiced day and night and became good at it. Now he’s an unbeatable force in the Grommet category of skimboarders 13 years old and below.

A poor fisherfolk’s son from Bongtud-Tandag, Jevan’s skimboard was made from a piece of marine plyboard washed onshore when a Cebu-bound cargo ship capsized near Mancagangi Island three Decembers ago.

Jevan joined the 1st Tago Skimboarding Competition as “expert” because there was no grommet category. Easily he won the hearts of spectators both with his skimboarding skill and his honesty to show what he really is----a poor boy who wants to excel in a water sport he has learned to master!

Unlike his opponents, Jevan wore no board shorts because he had none. What he had was a faded black jersey shorts whose seat had holes. As a rule, surfers and skimboarders don’t wear briefs (don’t ask me why), but because his shorts had holes in them, Jevan wore formerly-white briefs with bacon waistband.

When it was his turn to hit the waves, that was when Jevan turned into a riot. Poised on a mound of slate-gray sand meters from the shore, he would then clutch at his woodie board with two ebony hands and run toward the waves. But halfway through it, his shorts and briefs would fall and his other hand would be quick to pull them back to prevent himself from riding the waves in full monty.

Laughters! Whistles! Claps!

Tiny and fragile-looking, Jevan rode the wave like a flotsam: light, graceful, and pliant. Though he had to tug perpetually at his shorts and briefs from the impact of onrushing waves as he flipped and glided, Jevan still managed to enter the semis. Eventually he lost to much better and older skimboarders.

Jevan may have won a petty sum of two-hundred pesos for performing the best long-ride, but deep within him he knew he won big by captivating the hearts of Tagon-ons!

See you next year, Jevan!

the 1st tago skimboarding competition made waves

2011-08-14T06:20:00.000-07:00

Take that to mean literally and figuratively!

The 1st Tago Skimboarding Competition unfolded on 13 August 2011 at 9:00 in the morning at Tago shoreline before a crowd of at least 300. The weather would have been perfect if not for a slight shower. And when it finally improved, the wind turned gusty, the better for the waves to form and for the multi-colored bannerettes, flaglets, and wind cones to unfurl in full splendor, thus transforming the venue into an arresting setting that could only come from the glossy pages of Mabuhay magazine.

The competition had beginners (exclusive for Tagon-ons) and expert categories (open to all), with 13 and 20 skimboarders composing the two sets. Judges were themselves both skimboarders and surfers, namely: Dr. Earl Cloyd Mira (Chair) and Messrs. Veni Vidi Vici Suarez and Rey Mcfel Tutor as members.

Donning a horizontally striped shirt that matched his Nikes, Mayor Henrich Pimentel arrived just in time for the short opening program to start. In his welcoming remarks, the mayor congratulated the organizers and made a pitch of making Tago the sport and adventure destination. When he added that the 2nd Tago Skimboarding Competition may come sooner that we all think, the crowd, most especially the skimboarders, applauded.

When the program ended, it was already low tide and the waves had receded, creating a sandbar in front. The judges decided to have the elimination round done in “free-style.” But first, they made the skimboarders perform a long ride (a special award) in a “kawa-kawa” just behind the makeshift tent that Ms. Roxanne C. Pimentel lent the organizers.

After the skimboarders drew lots to determine which heat they belonged, the competition began!

The thin wash of waves limited the skimboarders to execute some power moves, but still they enthralled the spectators, eliciting even ahhs and ohhhs from them. When all heats were done, the skimboarders, the judges, and the organizers went to the residence of Engr. Nick Laurente for some buffet lunch that included a lechon.

While the skimboarders and judges were enjoying their lunch, the waves at Tago shoreline began to grow and form beautifully. And by the time the riders hit the shores again, the sun was shining brightly and the Pacific Ocean was ready to provide the waves the players wanted.

And so the stage for high performance skimboarding was set!

From the semis to the finals, the waves were superb and the crowd had grown thick and more appreciative, just the way the skimboarders wanted them.

As the skimboarders romanced the waves and gave the performance of their lives, the audience clapped, cheered, and shouted their admiration. And surely, with the way the skimboarders did some power moves, the sea gods must’ve been flipping their fins in glee and screaming their gills hoarse!

When it was time to give out the awards, the spectators were clapping hard, giving a clear message that they agreed with the decision of the board of judges.

Mike Menardo was the champion (P2,00.00 with trophy) in the beginners category with Earl Urbiztondo as 1st Runner-up (P1,500.00 with trophy) and Ariong Medrano as 2nd Runner-up (P1,000.00 with trophy). The awards for Best in Long-ride and Best in Wipe-out went to Mike Menardo and Yolob Ambray (P200.00 each). Aldon Pamogas won as champion (P3,000.00 with trophy) in the expert category with Jasor Ortiz as 1st Runner-up (P2,500.00 with trophy) and Crisanto Cuizon as 2nd Runner-up (P2,000.00 with trophy). The awards for Best in Long-ride and Best in Wipe-out went to Jevan Judol and Jasor Ortiz (P200.00 each). Jaysor Ortiz also won the award for Best Woodie Skimboard, adding P200.00 to his winnings.

Ms. Tata Dolon-Pimentel, the mayor’s wife, made the unique trophies that combined tin and narra driftwood. Mrs. Belen Laurente took charge of the food so sumptuous the judges and the riders couldn’t help but say their profuse thanks over and over again.

The 1st Tago Skimboarding Competition was a project of SK Federation of Tago through Hon. Nneka Marie P. Laurente, LGU-Tago through Hon. Henrich M. Pimentel, Provincial Government of Surigao del Sur through Hon. Johnny T. Pimentel, Congressional Office through Hon. Philip A. Pichay, and the newly-organized and soon to be a foundation “I-Love-Tago” Movement headed by Romel M. Oribe, with members Maria Elena P. Dolon-Pimentel, Nicolas C. Laurente and Belen P. Laurente. Other benefactors include Vice Governor Manuel O. Alameda Sr., SK Provincial Federation Chair Manuel Alameda Jr., Ex-Mayor Hermenegildo P. Pimentel Jr., Hon. Alejandro S. Bautista Jr., Hon. Aloysius R. Espinoza, Hon. Wilfredo M. Yu, Ms. Mari Isabel P. Dolon-Insame, Engr. Vidal M. Luna, and Seagulls Ms. Gemmadel L. Medrano and Ms. Emily O. Patrimonio. DJ Brother Jay also helped in promoting the event in his radio program.

The 1st Tago Skimboarding Competition was successful in educating Tagon-ons about a new sport. But what is more significant is that the event made use of Tago’s natural resource that for the longest time had been thought of as something fearful and deadly. Another age-old urban legend had been dispelled!

And because the 1st Tago Skimboarding Competion made waves, the time has come for Tago to ride the crest and make a big splash in sports tourism!

******
(Note: for complete photos of the skimboarding competition, go to the FB walls of Maria Elena P. Dolon-Pimentel, Glynda and Romel M. Oribe.)

gidz

2011-06-03T03:40:00.001-07:00

He ran toward us and kept pace as we slowed down to find a place where we could park. With the sun on his face, he gave hand signals to the driver so he could squeeze the Adventure in between vehicles so many they made the area look like Japan, a day after it was hit by tsunami.

As the door swung open, he flashed a set of white, even teeth and mouthed what could be his standard greeting: Good morning, Ma’amSir, welcome to Enchanted River. Gidz Calmarez poh, Ma’amSir, at your service!

Talk about having us at hello!

Barely 12 years old, Gidz Calmares is one of the five juvenile tourist assistants that LGU-Hinatuan allows to operate within the confines of Enchanted River. That he is fast earning the reputation of a first-rate tourist assistant is impressive because he didn't have any training on tourist servicing. Let loose by LGU-Hinatuan, Gidz had to learn on the job, playing everything by ear.

But more than possessing natural skills, the kid has charm that charms tourists.

Gidz knows how to delight his customers: he carries bags; he volunteers information; he gives lavish compliments; he books you a cottage; he arranges for your food; he takes wacky shots of you if you trust him with your digicam; and he knows how to say thank-you.

Because he lives in Barangay Cambatong which is about 2 kilometers from Barangay Talisay where the Enchanted River flows, Gidz wakes up at 5 AM and sets off to his place of business on foot. Asked what he likes most about his “job”, he says money. Gidz earns between P300 and P500 daily, a good part of which is turned-over to the Enchanted River caretaker, an employee of LGU-Hinatuan. However, Gidz can get back the amount in the form of school supplies and other personal things like slippers and clothes.

That explained the UK cargo pants and fake Havaianas Gidz was wearing!

The third child in a brood of six, Gidz is proud to say that he gives his mother money from what he earns. And he doesn’t mind if she spends it on videoke and "last-two." What is important, he says, is he’s able to make her happy.

Gidz knows the importance of education. And he doesn't mind if his income will shrink when school opens because he can only work during weekends.

I asked him if he sees himself doing what he presently does 10 years from now. “No,” he said.

“And so, what?” I said.

“I’ll go abroad and when I have enough money, I’ll come back and put up a hotel.”

“ Here?”

“Yes,” he smiles impishly.

Smart kid. Here’s hoping he wasn’t making all those up.

siony boy

2011-06-01T20:57:00.000-07:00

A boy she’s not! But she loves it when people call her “Siony Boy.”

By day, she’s as enterprising as she gets, peddling anything from fish to firewood to charcoal to fruits. By night, she’s as entertaining as she gets, singing anything from “Bed of Roses” to “Nakaka” to “Hanggang” to “Dancing Queen.”

In her late 40s, Siony Boy is Tago’s resident stand-up comedienne, a buffoon who cracks her punch line in crisp broken English.

Born Asuncion Martinez Tajonera, Siony Boy has been put through the wringer many times that she now looks at life’s misfortune as nothing but a cliché. And this is how she survives. With much fewer regrets, if ever.

All over Tago, Siony Boy is known to be multi-skilled, a trait she exploits to fend for herself, her aging mother and her daughter.

Back in 1998, Siony Boy was a June bride in Boracay!

In blinding white organza gown, Siony Boy walked down the aisle looking like she was ready to roll on the floor laughing. But the ceremony ended without Siony Boy pulling any trick like stripping down not to her black lace drawers but white cotton skivvies.

For Angel Alejandro, Siony Boy’s groom, it was literally a dream wedding. Many times after his father died, he had shown up in Angel’s sleep, asking him why he hadn’t asked for Siony Boy’s hand yet. Angel finally gave in when in one dream, he saw his father sitting on his grave with his back toward him, sobbing.

Siony Boy’s father-in-law was her valued customer in Boracay during the 90s. That time, she worked as collection officer of her brother who was into selling Footstep products. The old man must’ve been beguiled by Siony Boy’s easy ways and jolly personality, not to mention her bag of antics and mastery of carabao-English, that he told her that if he were single, he would marry her. But because he was not, he did the next best thing: paired-off Siony Boy with his son.

If she was attracted to Angel, Siony Boy wouldn't say. What she said was that Angel was a quiet man who owned three carabaos and worked as casual employee in Caticlan.

Angel never courted her, she would say; it was Angel’s father who courted him for her, she would add jokingly.

Angel domesticated Siony Boy who, in 1999, gave birth to a beautiful angel she named, well, Angel.

When Siony Boy was about ready to resume work, her brother’s business suffered an irreversible setback. Not used to being house-bound, she asked Angel that she be allowed to go to Manila with Angel. In Manila where most of her relatives lived, she told Angel, she was sure to find work and be fine. Angel approved, but Siony Boy's policeman brother did not. He sent her money for fare in going home to Tago.

Siony Boy says she hasn’t heard much from Angel. She just leaves it to Angel to exchange text messages with her father. Angel never sends Angel money but Siony Boy doesn’t cry over this because she knows that angels abound. In America. In Australia. Even in places she doesn’t dream of.

In March 2011 at Tago gym, Siony Boy mounted the stage to pin ribbons on Angel who finished elementary as class valedictorian. Being a local celebrity that she is, Siony Boy was met with thunderous applause. As Angel bowed in gratitude, her face beamed with pride for having a “dual-Sim” for a mother.

And that, definitely, is no cliché!

manhangad, part three

2011-01-26T23:41:00.000-08:00

Islaw was a proud and self-proclaimed voyeur who talked about his exploits like they were part of his curriculum vitae. His notoriety was such that newbies groveled before him for tips on where and when to go, what to do and wear.

Islaw’s shrine was Endong’s house. What made this bungalow a natural magnet for perverts were Endong’s three pretty daughters and a secret slit in the toilet. Secret because Endong and his family didn’t know about it!

Among Endong’s daughters, it was the middle that Islaw lusted after the most because she had a skin like a debarked cassava, a tone she got from her father. The eldest and youngest, while lovelier, had the morena skin of their mother. More than chicos, Islaw liked singkamas!

The secret slit in Endong’s toilet was angled in such a way that a peeper could see nothing of the face or the head of his victims, only a portion of their back and a full leg as they sat on the bowl. But when these targets stood up, that was the time a voyeur could get a glimpse at their buttocks. But since all perverts have fertile imagination, it was all the peeper needed to shoot his sexual rocket to orbit and go big bang!

For the longest time Islaw had been wishing for that rare moment with Endong’s elder daughter. Though he had tried many times, he never got lucky. Still he kept on coming back, knowing that peeping is like fishing: you need to be in the right place at the right time!

It’s all about timing, he kept reminding himself. Then one night, the King of Peep finally smiled at him.

The mere sight of a glowing thigh and leg made Islaw weak in the knees. But knowing the moment to be fleeting, he got down to work pronto, summoning all mental images of her while letting his right hand acquire a life of its own.

After a while his quarry moved and rose.

Islaw stood transfixed, his eyes glued to the pleasing sight before him. And knowing the end of the show was near, his right hand went berserk. But then the body turned sideways---toward Islaw’s line of vision---and stooped to get the dipper.

Islaw exploded. Even if his eyes were glued to the scrotum of Endong!

to be continued...

manhangad, part two

2011-01-25T03:48:00.000-08:00

Stories about manhangad abound: Someone---a policeman---almost got shot and had to leave Tago in shame; another got blind after he pressed an eye against a peephole and the girl he had hoped to lay lascivious eyes on poked him with a pointed object; still another broke a bone when he fell off a tree. The story went that he was masturbating while ogling a girl when a mosquito bit him in the cheek. Apparently the mosquito sucked hard that he couldn’t ignore it. But he couldn’t stop either!

“Whew, pressure!” he must have said to himself. But pleasure overruled pain, and with the hand that he unclasped from a branch, he whacked the pesky insect!

Orlan was a seasoned voyeur whose favorite quarry was the band majorette of a rival school. This pretty young thing was assigned by her mother to wash the dishes at night just as her elder sister was tasked to prepare supper.

The majorette’s house had singbit walls---nipa fronds clipped together by sticks---and bamboo floor. Because they were not nailed entirely on the wooden brace, some bamboo slats rose when somebody stepped on their opposite end, creating concave gaps underneath the floor.

To get under his prey's house surreptitiously, Orlan had to crouch low. From his vantage point, he had a worm's eye view of the girl standing, wearing under her skirt candy-colored panties stitched with days of the week. But it aroused him more when she wore "Friday" and "Tuesday" on Wednesdays and Saturdays.

There were times that she seemed to notice his presence, but like a chameleon, Orlan would turn into a pig, a dog, or a cat. One night, Orlan was sitting on his heels and fondling himself while looking up. For balance, he placed his left hand under the concave gap on the floor, gripping the wooden brace. He was so into it that the next thing he knew, the sharp edges of the bamboo floor were digging into his knuckles. And that was when he noticed another skirt, a much bigger skirt above him: It was the majorette’s heavyweight mother!

He pulled his hand---the other hand---away, but it felt like a bulldozer was pressing it. As blood dripped from his knuckles, he bit his lower lip to silence a scream.

The pain pierced him so bad he couldn’t understand what the majorette and her mother were saying. He closed his eyes, willing the corpulent woman to go away. But instead he felt the pressure tighten on his hand. When he looked up, he saw a General Milling panty being pulled down by jumbo hands with chorizo fingers.

Orlan dodged noiselessly, but there was no escaping the onrush of the fat woman's pee. As the salty water trickled down his face, Orlan could only wish he had sore eyes!

to be continued......

manhangad

2011-01-20T22:54:00.000-08:00

Back in the 70s when cyber porn was still unheard of, the favorite game of pubescent males was “manhangad”. This “spectator sport" is in pursuit of prurient interest and requires daring and the ability to fade in the dark like a shadow.

Literally “manhangad” is a Tagon-on verb that means “to look up”, but colloquially it connotes engaging in Tom’s favorite pastime---peeping! As action word, “manhangad” has become archaic and its contemporary equivalent is “mamaklad”.

As a nocturnal sport, manhangad’s golden era was in the 70s, when Tago had yet no electricity, and most houses were built high from the ground. Because the floors of these houses were made of wooden planks or bamboo slats nailed not close to each other, there were gaps galore. The better for Tom to peep!

Also during this time, most toilets were nothing but a hole in the floor affair, and to relieve themselves Tagon-ons had to squat. While at it, they did anything like reading Bisaya or Liwayway, gazing at the contour of their genitals and combing their pubic hairs for nits and lice, or watching pigs down below looking up, waiting for manna to fall. For Tagon-ons doing it in outhouses built above sea water, things were no different except that it was some fish that snatched everything that came splashing.

(to be continued...)

skimboarding in tago

2011-01-10T20:52:00.000-08:00

Tago faces the Pacific Ocean whose wide variety of waves breaks into the shore of fine, slate gray sand. This setting is perfect for high performance surfing except for one thing: it's deadly!

We call our shore baybay and to it we attach the term ayuan, which means it begs relentlessly until it gets what it wants. So when we say that our baybay is ayuan, we mean this: it takes souls by force!

Every Tagon-on with the gall to go swimming at baybay knows that he has to watch out for higit, which happens when waves recede from the shore, dragging bathers to death with bizarre, brute force. Oscar Duque and Policarpo Medrano were two of the casualties. Poly, like Oscar years earlier, was already heading for home after swimming with a friend when he soiled his feet. He ran back to wash, never to be seen again.

And so it is with a sense of danger that Tago’s youngblood flirt with higit as they engage in their new sport--- skimboarding!

It has already come to my attention that boys go skimboarding in baybay, but it was only last summer that I saw two of them clutching an attractively painted board. Knowing that skimboarding or skimming is as alien to Tagon-ons as text messaging is to fish, I was intrigued: How do they do it? Who taught them?

My bestfriend Wiki told me that skimboarding is a boardsport in which a skimboard (a smaller counterpart to a surfboard) is used to glide across the water's surface. Unlike surfing, skimboarding begins on the beach, it starts with the dropping of the board onto the thin wash of previous waves. The players may use their momentum to 'skim' out to breaking waves, which they then catch back into shore in a manner similar to surfing.

Wow, just about perfect for Tago!

Last week, we went to baybay to know the extent of damage wrought by the recent flood. And we chanced upon a group of half-naked boys building sand castles. About them were five or six skimboards scattered like they were tossed by waves. Not far from them, perched on a stump, were upturned glasses and a plastic pitcher whose residue gave us a hint of its previous content.

Then a chubby boy picked up his board that carried an eagle, threw and ran onto it while it was gliding across a thin layer of water. But he fell even before I could blink. Then another rider glided over a layer of water towards a wave and when he reached it, he shifted his weight and wrapped around it, spreading his hands as the wash of waves propelled him back to shore.

I found myself clapping!

I borrowed the skimboard of one rider and inspected it. While professionals use a skimboard in “composite” construction of fiberglass, carbon or kevlar, this rider used a ply board that he salvaged from a bunkhouse of the contractor of Tago-Lapaz bridge. I ran my hand throughout its length to see if it had a nose lift or a rocker, a curve from nose to tail known for better control of bigger waves. I found none; what it had were dents.

Wiki said that riders generally favor a board made of length reaching about their mid-chest height when stood on end and with a thickness that ranges from 3/8 inch to 1 inch, this rider’s board however was nowhere near these specs.

I returned the board to the rider and asked him for a shot.

Seconds after we walked away, I looked back and wondered if their parents had told and warned them about the lore of our baybay. But as they glided across a thin layer of water with their skimboards, I saw not fear but a carefree spirit being unleashed.

The gods be damned!

2011's first flood

2011-01-06T20:09:00.000-08:00

Flooding, although it usually carries a negative connotation, is quite a natural process and is simply the response of a natural system---a river system---to the presence of too much water during an interval of time. When excess discharge is present in a river or stream, at first the water moves more quickly and perhaps some erosion of the channel takes place. If discharge increases too rapidly, however, water must move out of the channel and out onto the surrounding area, known as the floodplain. (Science.jrank.org)

Tago is a floodplain, and so the recent flood was par for the course!

Living alongside Tago River sharpens my survival instinct. And thanks to the conventional wisdom of my neighbors, I’ve learned to befriend the water, know its motion and meaning, and tame its denizens including the much-feared tangkig or sea snake.

When floodwaters came rampaging in the afternoon of January 3, 2011, I was not bothered that much, after all, we grew up seeing the river swell to irregular proportion usually at the end or start of the year. Tuig, my neighbors would say, referring to the time of the year when a change in the lunar phase pushes the water to its highest level. However, when the water invaded our sala---a first for all of us in the house---and rose knee-high, that was when I began to feel worried.

What if the rains won’t stop, I remember thinking to myself.

When the water entered our garage and started licking the tires of my Jazz, I drove it to the jeepney terminal. Meanwhile, in another garage, my other car was already given a half-bath by the flood. I would later transfer the Jazz to a higher ground where its roof got beaten by unremitting rains the whole night through.

After we had secured everything---or so we thought---I went out to check my neighbors. Living near the dike that was already invisible, some stayed on top of their dining table that they nailed hastily to the floor. Others made their sink their sanctuary.

It was a tableau of utter helplessness!

When I insisted on having them evacuated to our home, they declined, preferring to wait it out even if the table top and the sink were a fraction of an inch from the fast-moving water.

I went around Tago, and everywhere there was water as though all the angels in heaven were shedding tears all at once. And drenched Tagon-ons were all over the place: some were pushing their vehicles, others were paddling to the main streets their boats filled with children, pets, and belongings.

By midnight, I had a sense that the worst was over, and so I decided to call it a night.

But what a night!

Then suddenly I saw in a corner, near the sungkaan table, a black box: my attaché case that contained important papers like my car mortgage and passport, a digicam, the external memory of my netbook, $200, and my jewelry. In the frenzy of securing more valuable things, I forgot that it was hidden behind a cabinet.

Well, we gotta give something to Poseidon!

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right in the middle of our sala!

at the kitchen where i had late dinner while the flood gave me a foot spa

my floating bed

Christmas and the way it should be!

2010-12-27T23:38:00.000-08:00

Poverty is no stranger to you: You know its face, its form, its scent!

Living within breathing distance from squalor, you can’t help but get affected. And who wouldn’t if you have a neighborhood like this?

For sure it bothers you. But because you’re not Bill Gates, you think of little ways for them to experience joy and to set aside their misery if only for a day. And this you do on Christmas.

You began doing this when your niece, Maymay, was four years old. Maymay is already a nurse in London and you’re still at it, which means that you’re running it for over 20 years now. Yes, it’s that long; but the euphoria remains undiminished as you look forward to the date---anywhere from 27-30 December---every single year.

For the longest time you shouldered everything even if friends offered to share. It was only later that you allowed them the privilege to be part of this modest project. But through the years, the favored ones remain few: Marilen Ty, Melba Sales through Susie, Rhosalee Vasquez-Espinoza, Irma Maralit-Medrano, and Tita Soledad-Ubaldo.

Being one with the less fortunate kids during Christmas has become your form of meditation, your way of keeping in touch with the eternal child in you. But above all, because God has been ceaseless in blessing you, it’s your way of paying forward.

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THIS YEAR'S HIGHLIGHTS IN PICTURES

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9:00 AM, 27 dec: distribution of used clothing from ms. rhosallee vasquez-espinoza; almost half of the kids wore these clothes to the party in the afternoon.

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just before the program started; 3:00 PM, 27 Dec.

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saying "thank you" to this year's biggest donor, Ms. Tita Soledad-Ubaldo, my high school batchmate who lives in Texas, USA. She sent a boxfull of love, candies,chocolates, toys, school supplies, and many more!
*********

thanking yet another semi-regular donor, Ms. Irma Maralit-Medrano of Landbank-Tandag.
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chow time with bottomless orange juice!

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more stuff for tykes

Look, 'Nay, got some stuff from Auntie Tita!

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imported school supplies galore!

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Pinoy Henyo

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amazing race for kids

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mad scramble for candies and chocolates

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pabitin for toddlers

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kaliding race

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sack race

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Christmas spelling

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First Prize, Dance Contest

Second Prize

Third Prize
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post-program frenzy

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fiesta ukay-ukay

2010-12-15T00:19:00.000-08:00

Time was when people associate town fiestas with attending mass, pigging out “from house to house,” chomping cotton candies, doing the rides and playing games at the carnival. But now people associate town fiestas with pigging out “from house to house,” going the ukay-ukay route, and back to pigging out again.

There wasn’t much good finds at this year’s mound of ukay-ukay. Still I managed to snatch three long sleeves that come in salmon pink, pewter gray and champagne. And there was this blinding white polo with superb button details but contained little black characters like those stenciled on Mahjong tiles. Much as I coveted it, I threw it back because I don’t want to be put in the same situation as my friend.

Let’s just call her Magda. An undisputed ukay-ukay queen, Magda is a fashionista who makes ukay of the whole universe if only to let her friends die of envy. One day she dangles before you a nice scarf she bought for P1 in Bukidnon; another day she fishes from her “UK” sundry bag a cardigan she bought for P10 somewhere in Cagayan de Oro. Another day...you get the point.

That balmy Wednesday afternoon, Magda was bound for Manila and was wearing a navy blue blazer. At Butuan airport's pre-dep, a foreigner approached her.

“From what branch?” the button hole-eyed foreigner said. The ever talkative Magda was taken aback, but only for a sec.

“Excuse me?” she said.

The foreigner smiled. “I’m from the same bank,” he said, gesturing a hand to the characters imprinted near the breast pocket of Magda’s blazer. “From what branch are you?”

“Oh,I’ve long retired,” Magda said and went straight to the comfort room.

nanga wara nay mulahutay pagbilar kuman sa tago

2010-12-05T20:50:00.000-08:00

Friends, please excuse my French.

Nan gamay pa kaw, basta musabat si Mama mo nan pangadye mu-awos kaw gayud. Usahay swertehon, usahay sab dimalason. Pero haw dili gani si Mama mo magpa iban kanimo, anay haw uno mo na hibi sa kilid, way gayud kapuslanan kay di gayud mo salir kan Expectacion.

Pero matay haw paibanon kaw ngani, an kalipay mo sangko sa langit; kibale kaw gayud yakadaug nan Lotto agad wa pay Lotto naadi.

Nan Dekada Setenta, lain pan pangadye sa Tago kay magsubwak gayud nan tao an bay nan hintungdan. (Wa pay isab uso yadto nan mag tolda, dihaw haud kuman.) Tapos an pangadye mataasi, madugaye. Kay burayon pa sa kaw na bata nan yadto, di kaw kasabot nanga dugayi matapos si ‘Ya Sola magbasa nan iya libreto. Kay bata pa kaw gud, demodo magdalipasa kaw gayud, labi kay maarangi an tentasyon: an kautoton kaw, an kaliwa tuo mo na pandagpi nan hilam kay paga das-an an imo bitiis; an tapad mo na gaduka na sigen kapakog, an turog sa tungod nan hagdan na gahangad, ukab an bahbah na unsay alikawung nan tinilang na bebe. Laktud, lisudi pag concentrate.

Kada mo utot nan pinahuyanok, sikreto na kubot ni Expectacion sa hita mo. Pag mag dukih-kih kaw kay may imo inkit-an na kataw-anan, lain na isab na kubot, yaon manipis na pagka kibit na muiban an hawak mo haw hain ni Expectacion bitada an iya alima. Pero anguton mo kay pagka tapos gayud ni ‘Ya Sola pagbasa, managingka na sa dayon an mga baso, kutsara, plato. Pasabot, painit na!

Sa pangadye, yaon gayud ngad-on an pinakalami na kape bisan haw “Dragon” da; yaon sab sa pangadye an pinaka lami na budbod, biko, biringhi astan espasol. Inday nanga yaon na tanan ibana sa pangadye lamii sa gayud?

Tapos painit, sugod nan kalbaryo mo kay magsugod na sa si Mama mo pakig hinabi sa iban na manabatay. Pundok-pundok an mangadyi-ay na unsay tae nan kanding, sigen pa mur-ak nan tawa sanan hakhak nan mukuyam-kuyam. Taud-taud magsugod na kaw dayon pag manya: an mangawut kaw nan imo u, an bulikaton mon imo mata, an manghuyab kaw, an mag arihi.

“Amo kay lagi kay imbes dili paibanon, muiban sa gayud.” Amoy laong ni Mama mo kanimo, pero kon imo gayud yaon panalingahan pakadyaw, an iya gayud buot ipasabot amo ini: Pagtadung ngad-on na karaho kaw, haw di kaw gusto na ma bayud iton hita mo.

Mag puyo kaw naa, mag tadung.

Dapit sa kusina, an mga daga sanan mga ulitawo gasugod na pag duwa nan Bordon. Mukadto kaw, mangita. Kay memoryado mo san kanta nan Bordon na duwa, mukanta kaw nan singkitar ga sing-along agad way pay uso nan yaon naadi.

Taud-taud mugawas kaw. Sa kilid may mga babaye, yanag likit nan crepe paper na himuon nan buwak para korona nan patay. Mubalik kaw kan Mama mo, maghagad kaw manguli. Anhi kaw dayon mahilamit.

Hanapan kaw ni Mama mo nan kahigdaan, pero magpisi-pisi kaw, di kaw musugot kay hibawo sa kaw unoy imo dangatan haw mahikaturog kaw---pagmata mo, bunulitan na nan uling an ginawngan mo.

Kapila na lang bombahi an Petromax sanan dugangi nan gas, inpulihan na lang an gasa na Butterfly kay ya takdag pag tugpa nan organo, pero an managdye-ay yaon da gayud gihapon.

Padayon an kabibo nan bilasyon: may yangaon, may ga sugal, may ga bordon, may gahimon buwak, may gatiyaho, may yanagdayang na yagka bulitsing na an ginawngan nan uling, may mga turog na way panghimangkaagan na pagahikot na an iya siki sa haligi nan mga bilyako na yanagbilar, may paga tuytoy na turog. Basta bisan unoy lang kahuna-hunaan na minaldito.

Way bugto nan kape sanan painit.

Pag tugtugaok nan manok, magsugod na an mga tao paghibus hibus panguli. Pero an iban pag sidlit na gayud nan suga mukanaog nan hagdan.

Amo yaon an bilasyon sa una haw may patay. Kumusta an bilasyon kuman?

Kuman haw may patay, an hintungdan dakan gayud an magbilar. Anay pa haw uno mo na bana nan painit, anay pa magpa inom kaw obin magpa sugal, wara nay gayud mulutay nan bilasyon.

Kuman haw may patay, bungkag lapinig an mabilin ayok an pamaagi. Dalikakas an mga manabatay pag uli tagad sayo pa kay mahadlok sa sila na basin silay mahuli pag uli, malugos sila pag bilar kay hingtungdan dakan say gayud mabilin. Amo ini an yahitabo kan Bolon. Paglingi niya wa nay gayud lain na tao gawas sa hintungdan, ug yalugos dakan siya pagpaka buntag kay yasipog siya.

Kuman haw may patay, swerte na gayud haw may lima ka tao na mabilin pag bagting nan alas dosen dum. Unoy kaha rason?

Isa gayud na rason kuman nanga wara nay magbilar tungod nan TV. Inin mga teleserye gayud amoy ga dan tigaw sa pangadye kay dalikakas gayud pag uli an manabatay kay mutan-aw nan tv.

Isa pa, dili na sa lagi kuman mahadlok an mga tao muoli nan silahay da, bisan haw adto pa sa Soong an ila tuwad kay mapawae na sa lagi an dan. Burarati na an suga, di na mistil mag layong pa! Dihaw pareho sa una na malugos sa kaw gayud pagbilar kay hala purbari pag uli nan ikaw da isa haw di kaw lanton nan baboy na badingae kay makig trudin obin makig badu-baduan kanimo. Hala purbari pag uli kon di kaw sikupon nan sigbin kay makig Chinese garter kanimo bisan tugidluman. An labing gayud haw an hinaya yapatay kay in buno, obin yalumos o ya disgrasya. Dilie na manguli an mga tao kay haw aya sila sakpi nan santilmo kay dihaw magsiri-siri sila na unsay binggala na hupas?

An tanan sa gud kuman na may kalambigitan sa pagbangutan sayon dakan. Di na pandayon an kahon; di na huwaton an kabuntagon para ilas-on an minatay; dili na maghimon buwak na crepe paper sanan kinlaw nan sigarilyo. Amo ini an rason naman wara nay managbilar kay wa say ila kudi-kudion.

Swerte pa gihapon an imo henerasyon kay yakatilaw kamo uno-uno an tinuod na bilasyon. Mabibo bisan haw ga uli kaw nan ga bakang-bakang kay an hita mo unsay bayud na caimito nan kinulimutay ni Nana mo.

Why Tago Doesn’t Have a Night Life and the Like

2010-11-08T19:30:00.000-08:00

Every time friends ask me how Tagon-ons spend their nights, I always say: sleeping!

“Are there coffee shops with Wi-Fi connection? Or resto-bars where one can eat, drink, and dance the blues away? Or a beach resort that turns into a sexual hotspot at a drop of a T-back and a thong?”

No, Tago has none of those. What it has is a beautiful park that Tagon-ons go to if they want to be seen. What it has are lonely streets that Tagon-ons convert into their sala as they bring out chairs and tables to swap stories until laughter dissolves to yawn. What it has are hole-in-the-wall videoke joints whose mike, aside from being ripe for sputum analysis, turns mute at 9 o’clock because if not, the neighbors, at the break of dawn, will hail the owner to court for public disturbance.

Whether Tago had a night life during their time, my parents did not say. But I remember playing hide and seek in what remained of Antioco Dumagan’s bowling alley that stood next to the house we rented at the central part of Tago.

I’m no owl and so I’m not supposed to care what becomes of Tago after dark, right?

Wrong!

When friends and relatives sleep over and I don’t feel like bringing them to Tandag for a night out, that’s when I wish Tago had something more to offer. But my town has become a business wasteland where establishments fold up faster than the owners can hang their mayor's permit.

Why is this so?

I've asked around and learned that Tagon-ons have attitudes that don’t allow businesses to thrive. While Tagon-ons love to wine and dine, they do it on credit and in a term as indefinite as Madame Auring’s menstrual cycle. What makes this unfair, my sources lamented, is that Tagon-ons don’t do this when they wine and dine in Tandag. This reminds me of an episode in the 80s, during the heyday of Tata Pilapil’s Kusina sa Tago. That afternoon she passed by the plaza and saw that some of her regular customers were playing tennis. She stopped to watch, and right then a player erred and said “Sorry” to no one in particular. As if on cue, Tata shrieked: “Kadayawi taraw nan iyo mga batasan nganhi sa tennis court kay igoay da maliwag an bola, magka kanat sa dayon an sorry. Bahaw pa sa taraw inin utang niyo sa Kusina sa Tago na paga pang agup-op na, way gayud inkabatian ko na ga sorry.” (Translation not available.)

Another reason is Tagon-ons’ buying pattern. Most salaried Tagon-ons work in Tandag and buy their needs before going home to Tago. Those working in Tago go to Tandag after office hours to buy theirs. [Going to Tandag has become easy for most Tagon-ons as they now have cars and motorcycles.] Even Dr. Edwin Garrido, during his last visit, had observed that Tagon-ons now have to go to Tandag for a pack of Ajinomoto or a clove of garlic.

But the gravest reason is the high cost of doing business. Starting or renewing an enterprise in Tago requires so much cash that Myrna Pontevedra has relocated to San Miguel where permit and license fees are lower and the business climate, better.

Reversing this sorry scenario requires a change in the buying and spending attitudes of Tagon-ons and a rethinking of the local government’s stance on enterprise development. Up until then, we’re stuck with a beautiful park, a lonely street and a hole-in-the-wall videoke joint.

on editing

2010-11-01T21:41:00.000-07:00

butch dalisay, my favorite blogger, wrote a 2-part post on editing. i emailed him this pronto:

"thank you very much for that wonderful blogpost on editing. let me ask this question: what are the going rates for light, moderate, and heavy editing? or, is there a practical billing method you can suggest especially that clients here don't understand industry standards and would haggle until you're a centavo away from agreeing to do it for a song?"

within an hour, mr. dalisay emailed back, thus:

"hi, romel, thanks for your message. i knew someone was going to ask this, and my unfortunate and frustrating answer has to be, it depends--on the job, on who's contracting you for the job, on your own credentials, on the schedule, etc. within that range i've done everything from P5,000 for something almost token--a review of a document taking less than an hour--to P150,000 for editing a full-sized book.

again, there's no set system of rates for these things, not even for me. what i often do is to keep a personal goal in mind (i'd say, for example, that this particular job will cover all my credit card bills for the month, or take care of my next ticket to the US to visit my mother); that way i'm happy and motivated.

i try not to undersell myself, but i also try to understand the client's needs and capability. i have no compunction charging rich people and institutions top rates; sometimes i might also do jobs pro bono for something or some people i like."

another writer-friend, faye ilogon, said the same thing: it depends; you know, the more crooked the English, the higher the fees.

thank you, mr. dalisay for making it clear to me not to undersell myself!

removal exam sched

2010-10-28T18:32:00.000-07:00

the story behind my PA and Social Change class

2010-10-27T23:41:00.000-07:00

Few semesters ago, when Dr. Omas-as offered me the subject Public Administration and Social Change, my first question was: Is there a book that I could use as reference? She told me to ask Ma’am Nilds Cosare who handled the course the previous semester. Ma’am Nilds, bless her kind soul, gave me a photocopy of Stephen Vago’s “Social Change.”

As it is, Vago’s book is good because it draws attention to the characteristics, processes, and perspectives of social change. But the rub is, these exciting topics in Sociology are not linked with Public Administration.

Uh-uh!

That semester I taught PA and Social Change with eyes wide shut, groping for materials in the Internet that would help me and my students navigate through unfamiliar territory. I texted friends who texted their friends in UP and other SUCs for materials that I could sink my teeth into.

Zero. Nil. Zilch.

And then just like that I realized that the words creativity and improvisation were coined for a purpose. And just like that, me and my student stepped out of academic limbo, and into the light.

But until now, I still get this feeling that I could have done more. And Euli Ann, one of my exceptional students, echoed this sentiment when she recently posted a comment on my FB wall, thus: I can't imagine what the final exam for PA and Social Change be; kamatayon na ngani yadto sa una na waray klaro na reference materials, uno pa kaha kuman na pan Harvard?

But that’s getting ahead of the story.

Dr. Omas-as offered me again PA and Social Change last semester. Here’s my chance at self-redemption, I remember telling myself; eagerly I agreed even if it was in the time slot I eschew---1:00 to 4:00 PM.

And so it went that while my students reported on Vago’s first five chapters, I was busy befriending Google and coining every conceivable keyword before dragging the mouse.

Again, nada.

Time was running out. My students were already asking for their topics. And I began to feel the symptoms of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome in the heel of my palm.

Then one rainy afternoon, just when I was about ready to give up, Google smiled at me and gave me a book title: The Social Construction of Public Administration (Interpretive and Critical Perspective) by Jong S. Jun.

Immediately after the Google revelation, I sent text messages to my friends in the Metro to check if the book was available locally. It wasn’t. Not wanting this time to filch it from Torrent, I faced my FB wall and typed away my frustration. Five minutes later, a miracle happened: an angel from North Hills, California commented that all I needed to do was to say the word and she’d send the book pronto.

Well, I said the word.

Just a short digression: The angel’s name is Carol Macaranas. My classmate at the University of San Carlos, Carol has that rare combination of beauty and brain, with a heart as big as the State of Texas! She has also put some books about writing on my shelves and an oxblood Armani Exchange timepiece on my wrist!

Two weeks later, the book arrived. And my PA and Social Change class was never the same again!

My PA and Social Change class last semester will be best remembered as a motley group with intellectual gravitas rarely found in grad school. Take for instance Ernie Gultiano and Ronelyn Pinalba exchanging incisive comments, leaving everybody wishing silently for the two not to stop; or Eleonesto Dumagan needling the reporter for some contradictions; or Cheryl Elpa breaking into a smile before doing a rebuttal; or Francis Miranda mouthing legal jargons as though Mirriam Santiago were his Mom; or Ferdinand Denso doing a kilometric commentary in a voice so well-modulated it would make Mike Enriquez weep of envy; or Ermin Buhion hurling a couple of philosophical questions to nobody in particular; or Mr. Alas sharing his thoughts in an unassuming way that was his signature.

Gee, I loved that class.

my HRM class

2010-10-26T18:46:00.000-07:00

I’ve been teaching in the graduate school of Surigao del Sur Polytechnic State College (now Surigao del Sur State University) for many years now. I may not remember the names of all my students, but I do remember all the memories.

I have my fair share of “unwanted” subjects. And by that I mean subjects that are difficult to teach either because it’s the first time they’re being offered or there are no available reference materials in an otherwise book-challenged library. I don’t mind getting these subjects though, because I look at them as windows of opportunity to expand my academic horizon.

Last semester, I was lucky to have been given two subjects that became the most enjoyable in my teaching history bar none! Both had more than 20 students who unabashedly shared their thoughts.

Just a context: The number of students in a class does not dictate my teaching strategy or my brand of English. But I prefer more enrollees because by doing the same amount of effort, I can impact more, thus enhancing the multiplier effect of knowledge sharing.

My Human Resource Management (HRM) class had an interesting mix because students came from different programs—MaEd, MPA, and MBA. If that’s not a good recipe for interaction, then I don’t know what is!

There was a palpable sense of healthy competition. When MaEd students gave their reaction to a topic, it was certain their MPA and MBA counterparts would spill their guts too. More than amused, I was grateful for this because it enhanced greatly the quality of learning we had every meeting.

But more than anything else, I valued their sharing about how HRM is being implemented in their offices. I couldn’t bare it here as we had an agreement to leave all discussions in the classroom, but suffice it to say that they gave me a snapshot of HRM in the Philippine bureaucracy. And I tell you, the picture is far from being postcard-perfect.

Given my reputation as “horror” teacher, my students, for sure, had the creeps. But judging from the way their faces lit up every time I did a synthesis at the end of every report, and the way they laughed each time I threw them a funny line or situation, which was often, I’m sure it wasn’t as creepy as they thought.

I will miss this class.

cop out?

2010-10-26T01:00:00.000-07:00

not so good news

2010-10-24T20:39:00.000-07:00

we had our final exams last saturday and we agreed to post here the aliases of those who will take the removal exam, the schedule of which will be announced later.

HUMAN RESOURCE MANAGEMENT

1. Heal
2. Thata B.A.
3. Moonlight Lady
4. GAC

Special mention goes to Sheila L. Portillo-Buhion and Emily Nimes for exceeding my expectations.

PUBLIC ADMINISTRATION AND SOCIAL CHANGE

1. AMC
2. LEM
3. DARV
4. Tweety
5. Loverboy
6. Khlundysthyn
7. Megan's
8. Lee
9. Tsingkay
10 FCM
11. JCL
12. LBS
13. DLR
14. Syo-syo
15. Dark Man
16. Munch
17. Pink

Special mention goes to Ernie Gultiano and Eleonesto Dumagan for exceeding my expectations.

doing a lecture on technical writing

2010-10-19T23:16:00.000-07:00

At least they didn’t give me a look like I was speaking in tongues. And it was all I needed to make it through.

I recently got invited to do a lecture on technical writing as part of the workshop organized and facilitated by the Department of Interior and Local Government. Participated in by department heads from Surigao del Sur’s 18 towns and one city, my lecture was intended to make it easier for participants to write their respective comprehensive development plan, the workshop output.

That I got the job was a complete surprise. For one, I have no track record with DILG. Second, I didn’t know Provincial Director Pedrito P. Alacaba as he was assigned in Tandag for barely two months. But as it turned out, Taptap---PD Alacaba’s staff from Kitcharao and my first-time student in grad school---suggested getting me. Well, talk about Taptap’s clairvoyance (for how else did he know I was into that stuff?) and PD Alacaba’s leap of faith! But really I’m grateful; otherwise I wouldn’t have snagged a “racket” that netted me half of my Honda Jazz’s monthly amortization.

But what’s Jazz got to do with it?

My call slip said: 28 September, 8:30 AM; Kansilad Beach Resort, Lianga. I woke up ahead of my alarm clock, bathed, ate, and left at 6:45.

There was a promise of rain in the Tuesday skies. And as I drove, I felt a sense of unease: It was my first long drive and I was alone. But by the time I reached La Paz, I began to loosen up. And from then on, zipping past five towns was a breeze, though it helped that Christian Bautista bouyed me up with melodious thoughts about chasing rainbows, spinning dreams, and things that fade as swiftly as the ripples disappear.

I reached Kansilad while the participants were having breakfast. The room lit up with familiar faces: friends from way back, former graduate students, acquaintances whose names were already beyond the pale of short-term memory.

I fixed myself coffee while Taptap scanned my memory stick. Some participants came up to me and said things I’m sick and tired of hearing, you know, that they had the jitters when they knew I was coming. No, not to do a lecture but to critique their work.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it now: If hating mediocrity is a crime, then sue me! But don’t take it against me if I maintain a standard of excellence because that’s how I do my enterprise. It’s not about me and my ego, nor it is about you and your insecurities; it’s all about aspiring for excellence, no more, no less!

But I digress!

How do you cram a lecture about writing---technical communications at that---in just three hours? Customize it.

Because DILG had a template and the participants had already the data to flesh out their plans, I was left to focus on form. And I did that by hand-holding the participants as we waded through my PowerPoint presentation that included, among others, audience orientation, legibility, readability, comprehensibility, clarity of expression, simplicity of language, vocabulary, grammar and elements of style.

But beyond syntax and semantics, I talked about common writing pitfalls that make a development plan hefty and difficult to read. I also shared ways on how to do it with less flab.

While the participants enhanced the lecture with their questions and interaction, most of them declined to present a sample of their work for critiquing. And so it was early pack-up for me!

On my way home Nina was telling me about love moving in mysterious ways, but my mind was busy assessing the just concluded activity. And once again, it reinforced what I’ve known for so long: The best thing about giving a lecture is that you end up learning more. And when you get paid for it, it feels kinda obscene. Because if like me you enjoy talking before a crowd, it's like getting paid for eating your favorite ice cream.

Sola Gratia

2010-10-17T23:20:00.000-07:00

Tago is blessed with natural attractions but only a few, if at all, have been developed. But recently an inland resort has opened in Pamugsukan, Gamut that is fast attracting tourists. It’s called “Sola Gratia.”

Sola gratia is Latin for “grace alone,” a teaching that salvation comes by God’s grace alone and not as an unearned favor from Him. The name is apt because the resort is one of the amenities of a bible school. In fact, it was put-up so that the school can have funds to support partly its students who study there for free.

Sola Gratia is a pocket forest that exudes a notion of all things primitive: vine-curtained trees, massive boulders limned by cascading waters, a murmuring creek and a colorful bed of flowers.

At the center of Sola Gratia are two pools: one for kids, one for adults. Not necessarily mutually exclusive, these pools contain emerald water siphoned from a natural source---somewhere up there must be a spring or a falls---and discharged into a creek that snakes all the way to Tago River. In short, the water is forever flowing, fresh and clean!

At present, there’s only one cottage. But a small group can camp out under the caretaker’s high-heeled lodge decked with tables and chairs. Other than those two, campers have to content themselves with just long tables and benches. But for sure that’s only for now.

Sola Gratia’s area is limited but its unique contour can be exploited to offer thrills to daring souls. One thinks of rappelling, rock climbing, vine-swinging, and crossing a hanging bridge from one tree house to another. Here's praying the pastor-owner would spend time learning what to do with Sola Gratia’s natural advantages!

From Tago or Tandag, Sola Gratia is just a short tricycle commute away. It’s about 50 meters from the highway but one can drive down the narrow path straight to the gate.

Children and adults are asked to pay P10 and P20, inclusive of cottage fee. Night swimming is allowed from 6:00 to 9:00 o’clock at P30 each. Drinking alcohol and smoking are prohibited.

books again!

2010-09-21T20:08:00.000-07:00

because of a different kind of high i get from buying books, i squeezed in a couple of minutes to buy some paperbacks despite the hectic sked in cagayan de oro last week.

i got hooked on annie proulx's prose when then chicago-based sammy solana sent me few christmases ago the book "Brokeback Mountain: Story to Screenplay." "Brokeback Mountain" is so lean and mean and beautifully written that i deliberately didn't watch the movie to keep my mental image of the story intact. even proulx's essay on the travails of "Brokeback Mountain" (part of the book along with Larry McMurtry and Diana Osana's screeplay) before it finally got filmed is a piece of luminous writing.

this and more make me look forward to reading "The Shipping News."

been hearing and reading a lot of good things about sue grafton, thus the purchase. i've read a fourth of "G is for Gumshoe" and so far, so good.

with these three additions, i'm slowly rebuilding my collection.

hosting

2010-09-19T23:27:00.000-07:00

They say that hosting is something I do well. And you do more what you do best.

Last week, I had another opportunity to use my emceeing skill at the 3rd Mindanao Investment Conference, a corollary activity of the 19th Mindanao Business Conference held at the Grand Caprice in Cagayan de Oro City. I must’ve made an impact because the organizers (Oro Chamber of Commerce and Industry, Inc.) requested me, through our Assistant Regional Director, to host the next day’s event. I begged off because I brought only one business attire. Vanity, you say? No, just my belief that a host should look as good as he sounds. Buy, you say? No, not when I'm doing it pro bono.

As emcee, my competitive edge is I can work without a script. I’m also quick on my feet, doing one-liner adlibs without missing a beat. I don’t know, but words come easy to me. But then again, I have been building my arsenal of alphabets, if you can call it that, through countless hours of reading practically about anything under the sun.

Twelve years ago I was diagnosed to have thyroid cancer and was told to undergo thyroidectomy. The first thing I asked the surgeon was: Will I lose my voice? Well, that sums up pretty much how I love hosting!

***

at the business matching room with friends from DTI-Caraga.

with Ms. Margie Garay, the wife of Cong. Garay of Bislig

Britania Once More- Part Three

2010-08-30T21:33:00.000-07:00

Mayor Alameda’s “Ademala” is the grandfather of all motorboats-for-hire in Britania. White, wide, and with parallel seats like that of a jeepney, the “Ademala” has a way of calming down tourists scared of seafaring.

I boarded the “Ademala” along with other judges and went straight to the rear, opting to sit beside the boatman because I had several questions to ask. Standing near the hull and facing us, the tour-guide leaned back against a pole and raised the megaphone to her mouth to do her spiel. But then the boat roared and the wind snatched away her words.

I stared at the water, awed at how clear it was. Beneath us I could see sand, seaweeds, corals, fish. A foamy spray hit me in the arm as the bamboo outrigger plowed through.

The tour-guide had given up and was having a small talk with those sitting in front. I pitied her. She should have done her spiel before departure, that way she wouldn’t have to shout the bits of info she wanted to share.

Fifteen minutes ticked by and the “Ademala” was ready to hit the whiter than white shores of Buslon Island. I took off my Nikes because I wanted to relive the heavenly feeling of how it was to walk on arguably the Philippine’s finest and softest sand.

Buslon is the most popular of Britania Islands because it’s the nearest and ergo, the easiest, fastest and cheapest to access. From here, one can do island-hopping either by swimming or riding a boat. However, during low tide, one can do it on foot! Yes, that's right---on foot!

For the launch, Buslon Island was decorated with huge, multi-colored umbrellas and artsy sailboats. By the biggest rock formation a long table stood; and behind it were men and women in floral uniform holding a leafy fly swat. Draped with coco fronds and heaving from seafood, fruits and delicacies, the table created a fusion of colors that made me all the more ravenous.

After someone prayed, we all turned into food amoks.

Then it was island-hopping time!

I’ve been to Britania at least thrice but I haven’t gone to its distant islets like the pebble-rich Bon-bon and Naked Islands. (It’s called Naked Island because it has nothing on it except the sand, the sea and the sun!) And so when the tour-guide announced the boat was ready to depart for Naked Island, I ran to Ademala like it was Noah’s Ark. As we passed by them, the rest of Britania Islands grouped and regrouped as though an unseen magician was doing his trick to enthrall us.

From afar, Naked Island was an apparition, a fallen cloud that God never bothered to pick up. Shrouded in white, it shimmered as it stretched to its full length of about four basketball courts.

We jumped off and ran, imprinting footsteps deep into the sand. The skies hung pretty low such that when we reached the top of the mound, we extended our hands for God to lift us to heaven in one fell swoop. Then the cameras clicked as my companions lived their fantasies and captured the enchanting moments for Facebook purposes.

Naked Island cannot be described; it can only be experienced.

From Naked Island, we went straight to Barangay Britania for the critiquing session of the day’s affair. Ms. Lala Ambray brought my things because I left them in Buslon Island.

In my book, Britania Islands will always remain tops. And though I want them solely for my own selfish enjoyment, they're too beautiful to remain unshared!

my addiction

2010-08-24T21:10:00.000-07:00

I love condensed milk. And if you ask me what’s my favorite sandwich spread for my pan de sal and pan de leche, Liberty tops my list with Star Margarine sprinkled with brown sugar as close second.

My mother made desserts that required condensed milk like leche flan or buco salad. And every time this happened, we---the six of us---would squabble for the empty Liberty can. And when it got rowdy, mother would invoke my being the youngest. And so I’d repair to one corner of our kitchen where I would spoon whatever remained of the creamy, sweet, yellowish viscous liquid into my mouth. Other times I’d pour hot water into the can, stir, and shake it before drinking the contents straight from the can’s jagged edge. Thinking about this now felt strange because I was the kid who hated drinking Nido and American Tiki-tiki.

My memory bank is crammed with images that include a can of Liberty with twin punctures plugged in by its own dog-eared label, sitting on a saucer that contained water to keep the ants at bay. (There was no ref yet!) And just before it turned sour, we’d make pastillas—milk candies---out of it.

Most of my baon as a kid went to my classmates who sold pastillas. Placed inside a Nescafe glass, these pastillas were shaped in circles and dusted with white sugar so they wouldn’t stick together like goat dung.

Pastillas became my drug of choice. Sometimes the craving grew beyond quelling that I had to buy them on credit. But knowing there would be hell to pay if my parents found out, I had to make my enterprising classmates promise not to seek me out at home for payment. But because all promises are made to be broken, my parents found out and made pastillas of my butt!

I went cold turkey and joined Pastillas Anonymous! No, scratch that; I’m hallucinating.

I went through college clean of my addiction. But every time I saw a can of Liberty, I had this compulsion to open it and pour its contents on a hot oiled pan to make pastillas that I would have wolfed down in one go!

Years rolled by. Then recently, and just like that, my drug of choice started appearing on the shelves of big stores in Tandag. They may now come wrapped in water cellophane and shaped in tiny squares but they are as yummy and sweet as the pastillas of my youth.

I’m on relapse!

writing pays

2010-06-28T17:31:00.000-07:00

today i have received a pouch sent by ms. anika ventura of eastgate, the publishing arm of PAL. it contained a complimentary copy of Mabuhay, a check, and an acknowledgment receipt.

writing is its own reward. still, it feels good to know that it also pays. even if only for a pittance.

Britania Once More - Part Two

2010-06-28T00:15:00.000-07:00

The welcome program over and done with, we moved on to the Layag Design Contest. As jurors, we sat under a small nipa shed at the brink of a 100-meter walkway that stood on stilts.

The sun penetrated the nipa roof and the wind caressed our sweaty skin. From afar, Britania’s 24 islands, islets, and sandbars flecked the turquoise water like half-submerged domes of Poseidon. Then suddenly, as the winds shifted, the boats emerged from nowhere. In groups of five, they cruised toward us in boldly painted sails that broke the monotony of a monochromatic sea. To make sure we wouldn’t miss their assigned letter as basis for judging, boatmen tamed the wind and maneuvered their sails, the better to charm us with their creation’s best angle.

The sun grew fiercer and the shed’s shadow began to grow longer on the water. As my stomach growled, I could only hope that Dir. Bulabog didn’t notice. The boatmen began taking their time like we had the whole day to spare. Good thing Dir. Bulabog instructed the guy holding the megaphone to tell the boatmen to move it faster. By the time the Layag Design Contest was through, we were ready to eat the pencil we used for rating the participants.

At my back and reading from a list, a familiar voice was saying who would ride which boat. Her enunciation was excellent and her English, good. The huskiness of her voice was familiar, like that of her father who’s my good friend. When I turned to look at her, she smiled and said, “I told Papa you’re coming.” San Agustin, specifically Britania, could not get a better tour guide than Ms. Baby Darunday-Ladanan!

Together with other judges, I climbed down a stair connected by a wooden plank to the outrigger boat that would bring us to Buslon Island where lunch was served. I didn’t notice the boat was named Ademala, much less realize that it was an anagram of the Mayor’s family name. Hunger has a way of shutting off my brain!

Britania Once More - Part One

2010-06-24T01:04:00.000-07:00

When Ms. Lala Ambray, Provincial Tourism Officer, fetched me at half past 7:00 o’clock, I was already in my faux tourist get-up. It was a beautiful June 16 Wednesday morning, the sky was spotless, and we were headed for San Agustin, Surigao del Sur for the launching of Britania Island Tour Package.

The invite said, "be our guest and critic (sic) who shall evaluate/assess the whole tour product and its features for possible modification and refinement." We would also sit as jurors of the "Layag Design Contest," a corollary activity of the launch.

We reached San Agustin’s Town Square before 9 o’clock. Two years ago we would have been half-way still. But now that the highway had been fully concreted, travel time is cut in half and not to mention, many times more comfortable.

We walked toward the sea, to the lighthouse that looked like a three-tiered cake for its conical shape. Visitors from all over Surigao del Sur and Caraga Region, apparently done with breakfast, were now chatting, milling about, and blowing smokes. We stopped midway to look at the dead fountain’s focal point---a snaking swordfish in heavy paint! Does water spew forth from its sharp-toothed mouth?

Somebody smiled and we realized it was the amiable first lady of San Agustin, Ms. Mercy Alameda. Beso-beso. She then introduced us to the regional directors of NEDA and DILG and other visitors before leading us to the table weighed down by fruits and some edibles. We politely declined as we were still full.

It was past 10 o’clock when the Municipal Tourism Officer briefed us on the day’s activity. From San Agustin we had to proceed to Salvacion where all vehicles would be parked and everybody must take either a tricycle or a motorcycle to Britania. This way, she said, we’d get first hand experience on how it is to be a tourist in Britania. Well…

After about 10 minutes, we reached Salvacion Junction where the newly-built Tourist’s Information Center gleamed and smelled of fresh paint. (Lala Ambray commented on the placement of apostrophe; I let it pass, the activity being not about punctuation.) Too eager to greet us in their rehearsed lines and smiles, the reception staff made us write, among other things, our name on a logbook. In exchange we got a shell-laden, hand-painted “Welcome to Britania” lei and a fringed buri hat.

Tricycles and motorcycles vroomed to life after visitors mounted them. DILG Provincial Director Bulabog made me ride a motorcycle driven by the barangay captain of Salvacion. Good choice as he was a driver skilled at maneuvering his red-and-black Honda away from craters, puddles and rocks that littered the unpaved, narrow road. And most importantly, he knew his facts: From the highway, it’s 2.8 kilometers to Britania; the proposed road (not the private road currently being used) leading to Britania had been converted from a barangay to a national road, which means it may be completed sooner than usual.

Expectedly the road was better than when I last visited it, which was the Monday after Easter this year. However, despite our suggestion made weeks before the launch, there were no signages to guide tourists like me who have no sense of direction. (Although we saw one tarp on our way home, tourists would easily miss it as it was not conspicuously placed.) Thankfully, LGU-San Agustin had replaced the two rickety wooden bridges. But still it bothered me to see that garbage, mostly cellophanes and diapers, remained caught between the gnarled roots of mangroves that richly and beautifully line the dirt road. Unchecked, this may drive persnickety tourists away as it hints at the water quality of Britania. While this can easily be solved by a coastal clean-up, it’s really community education that will have a far-reaching effect.

When I reached Britania, the crowd was already thick at the area where the welcome program was to be held. Under a humongous blood-red umbrella were monoblock chairs and a long registration table. A rostrum stood beside a royal blue cloth that hung in front of a wall and pinned with words welcoming guests and visitors to Britania. As though in a concert, a group of men and women in blue, peach, and red floral outfit sang Kamayo ditties specially composed for the occasion.

As one important guest spoke after another, I couldn’t take my eyes off the rice cakes and the fresh young coconuts because my stomach was roiling from hunger as it was almost noon. And then finally, Gov. Johnny T. Pimentel, NEDA and DILG Regional Directors Cochingco and Bordeos unfurled the tarp just when the crowd turned restless from heat and hunger.

But lunch was still an island and a Layag Design Contest away!

*****

jejemon

2010-06-07T19:49:00.000-07:00

according to urban dictionary, a jejemon is:

1) Usually seen around social networking sites such as Friendster and Multiply, jejemons are individuals with low IQs who spread around their idiocy on the web by tYpFing LyK diZS jejejeje, making all people viewing their profile raise their eyebrows out of annoyance. Normal people like you and me must take a Bachelor of Arts in Jejetyping in order to understand said individuals, as deciphering their text would cause a lot of frustration and hair pulling. CAUTION: THESE INDIVIDUALS ARE BREEDING! THEY CAN BE SEEN WRECKING GRAMMATICAL HAVOC ON FACEBOOK TOO!

2) Jejemons are not just confined to trying-hard Filipino gangsters and emos. A Jejemon can also include a variety of Latino-Hispanic fags who enjoy typing "jejejejeje" in a wider context, much to the disdain of their opponents in an internet MMORPG game such as Ragnarok and DOTA.

3) Basically anyone with a low tolerance in correct punctuation, syntax and grammar. Jejemons are usually hated or hunted down by Jejebusters or the grammar nazi to eradicate their grammatical ways.

****

for more definition of jejemon, go to this link: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=jejemon

how tagon-ons voted

2010-05-24T00:15:00.000-07:00

[Disclaimer: This armchair analysis centers on how Tagon-ons voted in the Sangguniang Bayan race. However I delimit it to the Top 10 SB candidates, using results from the randomly selected 13 of the 24 barangays. To get the voting pattern, I gave one point to a candidate if he landed anywhere from 1st to 8th place in any of the 13 barangays.

There’s nothing scientific about this discussion. No winning candidate was interviewed. All information was gathered from unverified secondary sources.]

The recent elections in Tago partook of a money contest where candidates played ATMs, dispensing crisp bills as though they’d go offline in the morrow. Others made it look like they were on relief operations, giving out noodles, detergent bars, rice, toothbrush, and reading glasses.

But before going any further, a definition of some terms: a) “Tili-tili” (literally a rain shower) means either cash or goods that the candidates give to voters to win votes; and b) “Planting rice” means a wholesale giving of tili-tili.

The cash “tili-tili” in the SB race ranged from P20-50. Because there was a shortage of small bills, other candidates went for three voters for P100. This tili-tili was stapled to the candidates’ campaign material and distributed by political leaders using the Comelec’s List of Registered Voters as guide.

To be effective, tili-tili should be uniform in amount, meaning, if a candidate gives P20 to the “intelligent” voters in Poblacion Tago, then voters in Layog or Anahaw Daan should also receive P20. If the candidate becomes selective, i.e., preferring to give bigger tili-tili in Poblacion than in the barrios, he courts being junked by offended voters outside of Tago. This happened to one candidate who gave P50 in the central part of Tago and P20 in the barangays; though he won, he didn’t land in the top three as earlier predicted.

Voters without personal attachment to candidates tend to vote for whoever gives them a bigger tili-tili. Okay, not all. But most! One voter who received four 20s but had only one slot to spare said he confronted his guilt by placing the tili-tili inside a bottle and picked the candidate who would complete his list of eight SB members.

Because candidates believe that there’s no substitute for victory, they engage in planting rice. But to work, planting rice requires two things: 1) enough cash to cover all registered voters; and 2) an organization of honest and loyal leaders who will distribute the tili-tili as intended by the candidates.

By its definition, planting rice is giving tili-tili to all registered voters. But even how well-oiled he is, a candidate can’t afford to go for 100 per cent exposure. And so he or his voodoo analysts study the result of the previous elections and ask: How much percentage of the total registered voters were the votes garnered by the top SB member? The politician's crude and unwritten formula is to multiply this percentage by the present number of registered voters and then multiply the result by two. The product becomes his target for planting rice operation.

How expensive was planting rice in Tago during the recent elections? A winning candidate spent a whopping P640,000.00 by “buying” 75% of the total registered voters (about 16,000) at P40 each. Vote conversion rate however was placed at 50% because for every two voters he “bought,” he got only one vote.

(Just so you get the whole picture, let me stress the obvious. The P640,000.00 was for tili-tili purposes alone and did not include expenses for caucuses and rallies, and mobilization for leaders.)

What’s the mechanics for planting rice? Using the crude formula cited above, the candidate decides how and where to generate these target votes by checking the voters in each barangay and decides who to include in his shop list, prioritizing his and his leaders’ relatives, friends, and acquaintances.

Planting rice has become a pervading practice in Tago that it now cuts across the hitherto sacrosanct stratum of the “rich” and the “intelligent.” Leaders of politicos have become brazen as to knock at the door, holding a bundle of tili-tili for the entire household. Gracia hatud bay! And as if to lessen the shamelessness and guilt of the act, the paymasters would say that the tili-tili is all part of their budget and that if the recipient wouldn’t accept it, then it would go to their pocket.

But a total price war it was not. Some SB candidates gave P30 and still bit the political dust while others gave P20 and emerged victorious. Another candidate, who has been claiming that he's no practitioner of tili-tili giving, also won. Perhaps for these winning candidates, a good organization was the clincher. Or simply that it was written in the stars that they would become legislators no matter what.

None of of the candidates who distributed consumables won. And interestingly, all incumbent candidates, while putting up a good fight, lost. Makes one wonder how people treat performance or lack of it as voting consideration!

Here’s how the top ten SB candidates of Tago figured in the political landscape of the 13 randomly selected barangays. The 1st and 2nd placer got 13/13, meaning they were consistently in the Top 8; the 2nd, 12/13; the 4th, 10/13; the 5th, 8/12, the 6th, 7th and 8th, 6/13; and the 9th and 10th, 4/13.

I can tell you how this voting behavior changes in May 2013. But first, show me the money!

may 2010 elections: tago's score card

2010-05-17T22:58:00.000-07:00

Hours before Tagon-ons went out of their homes to try their hands at the PCOS machine for the May 2010 elections, heaven was already leaking like hell. Still they went to their designated polling places by braving the heavy rains and queued for at least two hours while standing on murky, knee-deep waters.

When rains continued without let-up and people began going home with nary a blot of indelible ink on their index finger, candidates panicked: These people had already received “tili-tili,” what if, because of the hassle that comes with voting, they would just decide to stay at home and not vote?

The Comelec Report

For Tago, COMELEC reported 35 clustered precincts, 21,254 registered voters and 16,638 who actually voted. All these data say is that for every 10 Tagon-on voters, about eight had cast their ballot. Given the inclement weather on May 10, the 78.28% voter turnout is quite high and all because the electorates were curious about the PCOS machine and the new way of voting.

The mayoral race posted the lowest ballot spoilage at 3.29%, trailed by the congressional race at 4.37%. The vice-gubernatorial race posted the highest ballot spoilage at 15.84% followed by the vice-mayoral race at 10.19%.

A little digression: Under automated elections, the PCOS machine rejects the ballot in whole when the bar code is corrupted, the ballot’s crumpled, or the ink has bled. It rejects the ballot in part when a voter over-votes, meaning, instead of voting for only one candidate---as in the case of Mayor---he votes for two or three candidates. Should this happen, only the vote cast for Mayor gets voided while the rest of the entries in the ballot, assuming they’re correct, will be counted.

Moving on now. Spoiled votes in the mayoral and vice-mayoral races amount to 547 and 1,695. This 1,145 disparity reveals that more people erred in shading the name of their vice mayor than their mayor. Or that they had over-voted. What is interesting is that the chance of accidentally over-voting in the vice mayoral race was slim as it contained only two names and written in one line because of the “landscape” orientation of the ballot. Compare this with the mayoral race which had three names and written in two lines.

Could it be that some electorates voted for mayor but not for vice mayor?

The Tagon-ons, the Ballot and the PCOS Machine

Most Tagon-ons, including moi, hadn’t attended a PCOS briefing that Comelec conducted in all barangays and so they didn’t know that automation involved only canvassing and transmission but not filling out of ballots. And when Comelec conducted a mock election to test the PCOS machine days before May 10, this fear spiraled because almost all the participants said the special marker had the tendency to bleed out of the provided “itlog” that preceded the names of the candidates, and that their ballots were repeatedly rejected before the PCOS machine finally swallowed it.

Candidates gave out “tili-tili” stapled to a sample ballot that contained their name and their corresponding “itlog” and number in bigger and bolder print. The official ballot however had the names, “itlog,” and number written in smaller font and fading ink. And if one wasn’t careful enough, the ink would really bleed and taint the other “itlog,” thus spoiling that portion of the ballot.

Negotiating the ballot was particularly hard for senior citizens, what with their failing eyesight and shaking hands. Next time around, it’s best for them to request for assistance to save them a lot of trouble.

There was a sense of hesitation and palpable fear every time a voter approached the PCOS machine to feed his ballot. It just didn’t help that a teacher was around, ready to assist. But when the machine ate the ballot, the voter’s face lit up as though he were a cell phone receiving a text message.

Cold and dark, the PCOS machine inspired techno fear, especially for voters living under the rocks. But some decided to confront this fear by opting to feed the ballots themselves despite racing hearts and unsteady hands. Their reward came in seeing the word “Congratulations” blinking on the small screen!

Lessons Learned

Tagon-ons have realized that with automation, they could indeed vote for their choices and never be discovered, unlike before where “contra-senyas” tended to unmask them. They have also discovered that it’s now easier to vote as they only have to shade the “itlog” rather than write the names on the ballot and that it’s easier to remember the candidates with their assigned numbers than by their names.

Tagon-ons have also realized that it’s now quicker to canvass votes than before because by midnight, the winners were already known.

what to do on a holiday?

2010-05-02T21:41:00.000-07:00

bake some banana bread, that's what!

this is called "humble banana bread." but its humility centers on cost, not on taste. it is so easy to prepare that even a quadruple amputee can do it in 30 minutes flat!

gemmadel l. medrano rocks!!!

2010-05-01T20:58:00.000-07:00

when i got back from my summer class last night, japan texted me that i had some stuff from our girl high school batchmate who was once a US navy. i sent our helper to get them and boy, was i surprised...and happy!

thanks loads, gem!

before you start eating your heart out, please tell me: what will i do with my clinique-for-men stuff given by another california-based friend?

back to baking

2010-05-01T20:49:00.000-07:00

while i finally went back to baking for my nephew's 17th birthday on april 27, i also discovered that my moulinex hand mixer needed some lovin'. still, i was able to make a nice choco custard cake.

experiencing paradise

2010-04-25T23:33:00.000-07:00

As far as spelling goes, the old Bretania is dead. But from its ashes, the new Britania rises!

A morning after Easter, the gang was sharing food and laughs at Japan’s when someone said: “Why don’t we go to Britania?” And just like that, we did!

Japan borrowed a van whose fan belt was so loose it screamed. The only way you could hush it, the mechanic said, was by shutting off the air-conditioning system. And just like that, we did!

Part of the fun was enduring the oven hot interior because the windows wouldn’t open and we didn’t know until we were on our way home that there was a lift-off vent on the roof.

We picked up Tata and Nelson in Sumo-sumo. Felna wanted at first to come but decided she had had enough sunburn on her back and was better off playing with her neighbors who adored her Michigan twang.

We had lunch at the Sto. Nino diner. But all the seafood we were craving for were gone as it was already past one o’clock. And so Nelson just feasted on beef steak and balbacua.

We turned left at Salvacion junction. The tarp carrying some shots of the islands, the mayor, and a poorly conceived tagline dwarfed the waiting shed that now had gone sunken after the elevation had changed due to the concreting of the highway. As we entered Salvacion, I noticed nothing much had changed: the road remained narrow and unpaved; no signage to guide visitors and tourists.

After so much asking for direction, we exited Salvacion and turned right, toward Britania. The landscape turned rustic and the one-lane road was grassy and rugged. By the roadside, sun-browned kids trailed in single file, carrying either vegetable or jackfruit on their heads and fish on their hands; water buffalos sunbathed in mud wallows under slender trees while a few birds twitted rhythm and blues; the fresh smell of weeds threw me back to my childhood and I felt nostalgic.

Then we reached a forked road at the center of which were a tree and a mud puddle. Japan, who visited Britania a few days earlier, couldn’t say which one to take. The driver chose left and stopped to ask the woman balancing a basin of laundry on her head. She said we took the wrong turn.

Back at the forked road, we took a detour to the right. A few meters later, we could already see the turquoise water, the majestic islands and the white sand gleaming from the mid afternoon sun.

“Going to the island?” a man barked from the window, keeping pace with the van. We pulled over and got off to the fresh, cool air of Britania. The coco fronds swayed as though welcoming us.

The fishing village hadn’t changed. A few nipa huts there, a sari-sari store here. Outrigger boats dotted the shore; thin and dark children played around while their pregnant mothers sat on the rungs of a bamboo stair and raided each other’s head of lice; grimy, half-naked men drank tuba from the same glass.

Few meters from where we stood was an unfinished sea wall that served as jump-off point to Britania Islands. From afar I saw something new that wasn't there when I last visited Britania 10 years ago. There was a boardwalk that extended from the shore to the water by at least 100 meters. Some people were pacing its entire length while others were taking pictures. Inside the big shed by the boardwalk’s midsection, people were waiting for their boat to arrive. And near the shore, carpenters were busy building a similar shed.

Japan haggled with boatmen and settled for P800 which included whisking us off to the islands and back and watching our things. It was a bit expensive because it was quite late in the afternoon and almost all boats had already been commissioned for the day. (We were told that other times one could strike a deal for as low as P500.)

(A little disclosure: For those not used to taking an outrigger boat and don’t know how to swim, the trip to the islands could be scary especially that no life jacket is available.)

Nelson looked nonchalant but I knew he was as jittery as Elaine whose knuckles turned white from gripping the boat’s ridge. I told them not to worry because the boat had an outrigger, but should it capsize, to make sure to hold on to it and not let go. Besides, I said, boatmen are here to save us all. But still, when the motorboat roared to life, I thought I heard the fast beating of their hearts.

The boat made a path on the clearest water I had ever seen, so clear that we could see things underneath like we were looking through a giant aquarium. Fifteen minutes or so later, the boat hit fine sand. And that’s when we knew we had reached the magical island this side of Surigao del Sur.

Britania, in my book, is a paradise. And the thing with paradise is that there’s no way you can describe it. You only have to experience it.

Visit Britania. Experience paradise!

*************

at the sea wall. note the islands at the back.

during low tide, you can island-hop on foot like we did in this picture!

uprooting a rock to know what treasure lies beneath the fine sand.

too old to become mermaids?

how fine is the sand? think Goldilocks polvoron!

britania in full splendor!

brown outs and all things positive

2010-04-12T23:21:00.000-07:00

A power crisis grips Mindanao, leaving in its wake billions of losses daily. In Tandag, power goes out twice daily, at 11:00-1:00 PM and 4:00-6:00 PM. (In Tago, power also goes out twice daily, at 1:00-4:00 PM and 8:00-10:00 PM.) And if your office is like mine whose processes are computer-dependent, everything stops.

But there are positive sides to a power outage. At my office, we now have longer time to share stories about relationships, triumphs, setbacks, milestones and breakthroughs. At home, we now have longer time to share a meal, a laugh, a dream. And with evenings draped in black, we now go out of the house to appreciate the cool evening air, the pale moon, the sequined sky.

Suddenly we’re bonding with our neighbors, indulge in small talks, laugh at simple things and romanticize those good old days. Suddenly we relearn the cathartic effect of simple storytelling that no teleserye could ever hope to match. Suddenly we re-experience the breathless thrill of chasing a shooting star with a foolish wish. Suddenly children realize the “inter-activeness” of pinoy games like kuding-kudingan, ik-ikan, tago tagu-an, and ibo. Suddenly it doesn’t matter anymore if we miss an episode of American Idol.

Thanks to brown outs, we realize we haven’t lost the creativity in making gadgets that don’t need sockets and batteries to work. Thanks to brown outs, we're back to making gas lamps that use an escosia Violin or Guitar as wick. Thanks to brown outs, we realize the beauty of simplicity, of reducing things to basic.

Sometimes it takes a power crisis to see things in a new light. Or in this case, old light. And so delight in it while it lasts.

meta editing

2010-04-09T16:48:00.000-07:00

i've been writing long enough to form the discipline of editing myself scrupulously. and this because i believe in the masters when they say that revision is a sign of maturity, of finally grasping and realizing the true worth of one's creation.

was it mark twain who said that everybody can write, but not everybody can rewrite?

as a published writer, i respect editorial license. but there were rare times that i wondered what went on in the editor's mind. my article in the March 2010 issue of PAL's Mabuhay is a case in point.

I wrote: Bislig City's Tinuy-an Falls has such stunning visual appeal that the Department of Tourism tags it as the the country's widest and most amazing waterfalls. Its water is a canvas that captures cerulean skies, lush greens, and exotic blooms. Its flat rock formations are so well-stacked they might as well be the concert stage of nymphs and fairies.

The editor revised it this way: Bislig City's Tinuy-an Falls have such stunning visual appeal that the Department of Tourism tags them as the the country's widest and most amazing waterfalls. Its water is a canvas that captures cerulean skies, lush greens, and exotic blooms. Its flat rock formations are so well-stacked they might as well be the concert stage of nymphs and fairies.

the editor must've so much to edit that day he missed the inconsistencies in pronoun use.

Mabuhay!

2010-03-16T18:09:00.000-07:00

here's a scanned copy of my article which appeared on page 20 of the March issue of PAL's Mabuhay.

and this appeared on page 8.

and on page 4, Editor Simeon Ventura mentioned me and Surigao del Sur.

small wins

2010-02-15T21:23:00.000-08:00

for a couple of weeks now, i've been brisk walking. below are my minimums:

- 4 times a week;
- 7 kilometers in 45 minutes per outing;

on top of these, i have eased out from my diet the following: bread, black coffee, juice. as for my war against colas, here's a lowdown: i'm clean since new year!

small wins, yes, but already i feel a bit lighter (water loss? maybe, but i'm getting there.) and my systolic pressure has gone down from 140 to 120.

tago tees for sale

2010-02-15T00:30:00.000-08:00

the tees are now available for sale.

buy na!

ingesting poison

2010-01-28T19:59:00.000-08:00

willie gave susie a surprise bday party on 28 january at 6:30 pm at the ground floor of goldbar. we connived with willy by buttonholing susie so she would know nothing of the preparation that willie and the goldbar crew did behind her back.

i was filling myself with my favorite poison---crispy lechon skin and sweet chillied crab in thick sauce---when my internist-high-school-batchmate entered and gave me a look that melted away every cholesterol in my heart and uric acid in my joints.

"don't worry; i'm into brisk walking anyway," was all i said.

my curse

2010-01-26T22:30:00.000-08:00

i have a confession to make: my greatest curse as a writer is that i can't seem to stop editing my work! just hours after i had submitted the "final" version of my article to Mabuhay yesterday, the print out that i brought home looked like this.

good thing the original deadline's at 3:00 PM today because i still have time to resend it.

done!

2010-01-25T22:55:00.000-08:00

i'm happy because i have just emailed the article and the photos to Mabuhay!

ako'y nagsimula

2010-01-25T16:28:00.000-08:00

finally today, i have begun brisk walking from tago to crossing victoria and back.

cheers to a healthier and slimmer me! ^_^

Mabuhay update

2010-01-24T18:19:00.000-08:00

In my previous post I wrote how difficult it was for me to write about the beauty of Surigao del Sur in just 800 words. I've used a lot of paper and ink for the rewrites before deciding to submit it last Friday, three days ahead of deadline.

I had my reasons: 1) should my article need a rewrite, I still had time to do it before deadline; and 2) I was hoping Mabuhay would like the article, enough to make me expand it.

Then this morning, I got a reply. Here goes:

Hi *insert my name here,*

Thanks for sending them early.

Overall, the article is great; Surigao del Sur is indeed a hidden gem. However, could you kindly make some minor revisions/clarifications to your article? (I realize it's mostly because of the word limit, but you can disregard that for these. ) Here they are:

1. Please rewrite "Three Surigao del Sur's must visit:" into complete introductory sentence/s.
2. What is the "world's smallest bird" mentioned in your article? (I thought it was the Bee Hummingbird, but it seems these are not endemic to the Philippines?)
3. Please include a short closing paragraph to tie everything together.
4. Finally, could you still add a short write-up on Hinatuan's Enchanted River? Jojie has beautiful photos of it, and I thought it would be a pity to leave it out. If so, kindly include the contact person for this as well (if applicable).

Many thanks!

Sincerely,

Manna Marquez
Editorial Coordinator
Mabuhay magazine
Eastgate Publishing Corporation
Tel. +632 633-4004 to 09

YAY! YAY! YAY!

first draft

2010-01-20T18:54:00.000-08:00

i'm done with the draft which i have cut to the bones at 795 words. but i'll let it sleep for a few nights before i do the final editing and submit it just in time for the january 25 deadline.

i'm also waiting for dingdong to take my pic for the contributor's page. i wonder what could be a good background, pagoda or town hall?

and here's praying this pic of Tinuy-an Falls from DOT-Caraga gets approved to go with my article.

words don't come easy

2010-01-17T20:47:00.000-08:00

imagine a province so naturally advantaged, located at the southeastern tip of the Philippines and part of Mindanao Island that faces the Pacific Ocean.

imagine a province that's the very first to be kissed by the sun.

imagine a province bedecked with mountain ranges, white beaches, cloud nine waves, kissing islets, waterfalls, hot and cold springs, enchanted rivers and caves.

imagine a province whose primeval forests are home to omnivores and premium wood species.

imagine a province whose bosom bursts with mineral resources, including an iron deposit which, at 3B MT, is the world’s largest.

imagine a province known by many names: Shangrila by the Pacific; Kaleidoscope of Superlatives; Mindanao's Best-Kept Secret.

and now,

imagine
capturing
the
above
province
in
just
800
words!

blessings

2010-01-14T20:09:00.000-08:00

blessings continue to pour from big-hearted souls from texas, california, and michigan who, by special request, shall remain nameless.

my Nike Air running shoes, the better to banish the toxins i imbibed during the holidays!

Gap shirt!

Aeropostale shirt

Hollister shirt

i'm not posting the chocolates, lotion, electric shaver, and soaps so my other friends won't say i have all the luck.

in case you're wondering, no, i haven't worn all the above shirts because i have yet to reduce excess poundage.

text joke

2010-01-13T20:42:00.000-08:00

as a matter of personal policy, i don't read forwarded email and text messages. in fact, my phone has a templated response for these messages, thus: "i don't want to be rude, but please stop sending me forwarded messages. thank you so much."

my graduate students and friends know this. but friends being friends,they sometimes forget. and so i received this text joke last christmas that really had me laughing out loud.

Bata (umiiyak): Inay, sabi ng mga kalaro ko na pangit daw ako. Pangit ba talaga ako, Inay?

Inay (yayakapin ang anak): Hindi totoo yan, Anak. Ito ang lagi mong tandaan: ang kagandahan an nasa loob; kaya huwag kang lumabas!

2010-01-10T20:39:00.000-08:00

i'm declaring war against softdrinks. i'm not sure though how long the war lasts!

O.M.G!

2010-01-06T20:28:00.000-08:00

I nearly lost consciousness when I received this email today. here goes:

Hi *insert my name here,*

We received the writing samples you sent for Mabuhay. Can you do an article for us on Surigao's beaches for Mabuhay's March issue? Our rates are Php*insert amount here*/word, excluding "a", "and" and "the". We do not buy any writer's rights or claim ownership of articles and photos. :) Let me know if this is amenable with you, and I will send you an editorial brief. If you also have any suggestions on what's nice to feature in Surigao, do let me know.

Thank you, and I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Annabelle Marquez

--
Editorial Assistant
Mabuhay magazine
Eastgate Publishing Corporation
Tel. +632 633-4004 to 09
eastgatepublishing.com

MABUHAY, here I come!

promoting my hometown

2010-01-06T16:32:00.000-08:00

For 2010 and beyond, I'll be doing massive promotion for my hometown via a popular medium: t-shirt! To stress the point, I will be literally wearing Tago and all things that it represents.

Patented, these tees come in limited edition and are sold only to interested friends. here's a sampler:

what's in 2010 for the virgin fire snake?

2010-01-05T21:34:00.000-08:00

My friend Google has this to say:

In 2010, the Snake likes to make slow and steady progress and the Year of the Tiger will find him swept along with unexpected developments – they need to adapt and keep up the pace. On the career front, the Snake will have quite a bit of competition and needs to stay ahead of the game in order to be in line for any promotions or career advancement opportunities. He needs to seek advice from those who can help and not appear too independent – working with colleagues will pay off handsomely during the year. Money management will be crucial during the Year of the Tiger and with careful planning, they should have little to worry about.

Time spent with loved ones, either on a well-earned holiday or at home, will rejuvenate the Snake’s spirit during a busy and intense year. February through April will favor work endeavors and promotion. July through December will offer many opportunities for single Snakes to meet a special romantic partner. Travel looks most likely during March and June through August, with fun and romance well starred. Snakes can be shy and loners, but the Year of the Tiger will ensure they have many happy social events to attend."

Hmmmmm, need i say more?

christmas bonding in red!

2009-12-28T22:23:00.000-08:00

con men

2009-12-28T21:53:00.000-08:00

Exactly two days before Christmas, I received this text message which I'm printing verbatim:

"Congratulations! Pres. GMA CHARITY FUND. Ur Sim# has Won! P600,000.00. 12.23/2009 DTI PRMT # 4627. For more info?Pls call me now! I'm Sec. Katherine L. Madrigal."

I sent two replies:

1) Really? Thank you so much! But you can keep the P600,000.00 because you need it for your chemotherapy. Today I will bend my knees in prayer that you and your loved ones will die of cancer; and

2) Lord, I pray that the user of this number and all his loved ones be afflicted with cancer so that this world will be rid of people who make it their business to fool their fellowmen. Amen.

I never received a reply.

merry christmas!

2009-12-20T17:25:00.000-08:00

christmas is all about giving, and true giving is a giving that hurts. and because times are hard, now is the best time to celebrate the real essence of christmas.

give until it hurts. or better yet, give until it feels good.

what i'm reading

2009-11-26T17:00:00.000-08:00

just because!

happy happy joy joy

2009-11-23T23:17:00.000-08:00

because enrolment drops invariably, second semester does not bode well for part time teachers like me. at the state college where i teach, things are worse: classes do not only become fewer at this time of academic year, they are being fused.

according to a disgruntled colleague, the school is doing this to give additional incentives to permanent employees through the salary that should have been paid to part timers.

so i was pleasantly surprised when i was given two subjects. and to top it off, they're both dream subjects: administrative communication and information management and public administration and the economy!

as marianne villanueva, my favorite blogger, would say: happy happy joy joy!

what-ifs and if-onlys

2009-11-13T05:10:00.000-08:00

Except for the 1977 fire that reduced to ashes a mother and her three children, nothing could be more tragic for Tago than the vehicular accident that killed Bingbing, Tito Jun, and ‘Ya Tet in one fell swoop.

Tito Jun was driving; Papong sat beside him in front. Behind them were ‘Ya Tet, Tingay, and Bingbing. As the Crosswind sped on a highway in Bunawan, an old man, dragging a bicycle by his side, crossed the street. The white SUV grated concrete, swerved, and turned turtle eight times, leaving in its wake sparks, tires, and cadavers.

Everything happened in split second. And because death is a smooth operator with impeccable precision and timing, Tagon-ons pitched a lot of what-ifs and if-onlys.

Two eulogists said that what if 'Ya Tet decided to spend her birthday in Tago instead of Davao?; what if Bingbing had denied ‘Ya Tet’s request to accompany her?; what if Bingbing didn’t go home from Dubai?; what if Bingbing had overslept that day, even for a few minutes?; what if they had given in to Bingbing’s request for either pancit or spaghetti the night before, would it make her life longer?

A blogger ruminated that what if either Bingbing or ‘Ya Tet drank so much water before leaving that day, would they request Tito Jun to pull over so they could use the toilet?

Tagon-ons asked what if ‘Ya Tet sat in front, would she advise Tito Jun to slow down?; what if Papong had pursued his original plan to go to Davao with his motorcycle, would ‘Ya Tet sit in front?; what if Tita Siony decided to join ‘Ya Tet even if ‘Ya Tet told her that the house in Davao had no refrigerator in which Tita Siony could store her medicines, would it change the seating position? Or, would she request Tito Jun to pull over because being a diabetic, she needed to take a leak every so often?; what if Tito Jun gassed-up for a half rather than a full tank?

Not a few Tagon-ons mulled over some if-onlys, like: if only ‘Ya Tet pursued her plan of commuting with Bingbing to Davao; if only Tito Jun didn’t race against another vehicle; if only ‘Ya Tet or Bingbing opted to sit in the middle instead of Tingay.

Ahhh! So many what-ifs and if-onlys!

But death doesn’t happen by chance, neither it is random. Just think of W. Somerset Maugham’s “The Appointment in Samarra” and the story of a man who avoided a ship like a cliché because a psychic told him that a marine vessel would cause his death, only to die when an earthquake made a huge painting of a storm-tossed yacht to fall on his head

Despite what the Bible says about its inevitability, death, in all its forms, is hard to accept. Thus we dwell on the what-ifs and the if-onlys even as we begin the excruciating process of coping. But amidst this flood of what-ifs and if-onlys that inundated Tago on the tragic death of Bingbing, Tito Jun, and ‘Ya Tet, one interesting detail sailed through: Papong, while riding shotgun, came out of the crash unscathed!

There’s a lesson there about death that begs to be learned!

uccp-tago

2009-11-07T16:35:00.000-08:00

for cecille, kharel, sheila may, and sammy

I grew up in this church. It was here that I learned many invaluable things: songs about reading the Bible and praying everyday; verses about God so loving the world that He gave His only begotten Son; and stories about angels protecting Daniel inside a lion's den.

Ours is a small church with an even smaller congregation. But we don't look at it that way: not then, when just a few pews were vacant; not now, when churchgoers sometimes number less than the characters in the Last Supper.

Quaint with excellent acoustics, our church is so old it sways as we sing "Onward Christian Soldiers." And because it hasn't shed its original skin, it stands brittle and scarred from the ravages of time and the tyrannies of termites and weevils.

All this made us decide to renovate!

Despite the quantity and the financial capability of our parishioners, we plodded on with nothing in our hearts but faith, the kind that moves mountains.

And move mountains we did!

Now, the facade's done. And please don't ask me how because all I can tell you is that God indeed works in ways so mysterious it leaves us amazed beyond belief.

But half done we're not. That's why no matter how small, we are counting our blessings and praying for more because we have no enough resources. What we have in our hearts are faith----the kind that moves mountains----and this simple wish that our church won't sway as we sing "Great is Thy Faithfulness."

one of the two sides that still need to be demolished and replaced.

one rainy night and a good movie

2009-10-31T21:00:00.000-07:00

it was 7:00 in the evening and the rain hadn't stopped. i had done a lot of reading and surfing the net, and PBB was still three hours away.

then i remembered. stashed somewhere in my room are DVDs and CDs that i haven't watched though they were sent to me by friends years ago. i took all the unwatched discs, set them facedown on my bed and shuffled them. then i looked at the ceiling as my hand groped for that one single disc that would keep me company for the night.

"The Pianist" it was!

with all the horrors of the Holocaust it depicted, it was a hard film to watch. But the scene that made me cry was the one showing Szpilman, the titular protagonist, giving a haunting performance in front of a German officer who had discovered his hideaway. For me, it was the film's strongest scene as it restored Szpilman's integrity as an artist, while giving a dash of humanity to the German officer.

really, there's nothing like a good movie on a rainy night.

crap

2009-10-28T20:51:00.000-07:00

I take PAL when I’m on official business; when I’m not, I take Cebu Pacific.

I love Cebu Pacific because almost always the plane leaves on time, making me ignore the fact that the uniform of its cabin crew looks to me like it has seen better days and the prices of mineral water, coffee and chicherias that FAs peddle are sky high.

There’s one thing though that I dislike about Cebu Pacific, and this thing happened in all my flights with it. Few minutes before touchdown, the FA told us that “we’re landing 15 minutes early of our scheduled time.”

I don’t know if this is allowed by the Bureau of Air Transportation. What I do know is that I get this feeling of being taken in for a ride!

an open letter to i2i

2009-10-26T17:30:00.000-07:00

Mr. Ricardo Ocampo
President
8 Mercury Ave., Bagumbayan
Libis, Quezon City

Dear Mr. Ocampo:

I like your i2i products because they're hip and reasonably priced. A frequent customer, I make it a point to visit an i2i stall be it in Davao, Cebu or Manila. Recently I bought a pair of i2i shades at SM Megamall when we attended a fair mounted by the Congressional Spouses Foundation, Inc. Yes, this was the time when Ondoy unleashed its fury.

The pair that sold at P275 was nice. I wore it when I took the plane back to Surigao del Sur via Davao City on 28 September 2009. As we waited for our luggage to arrive, I couldn't help looking at my reflection on the glass because I liked what I saw. As the conveyor spat our things out, I bent to pick them. Then I heard something snap. When I looked: there, scattered on the floor, were the three fragments of my i2i shades!

Why am I telling you this? Honestly, I don't know. Maybe I just want you to know about it so you can check with your suppliers to be more careful about product quality. And just in case you're wondering, no, I won't stop patronizing i2i.

Very truly yours,

Kampanaryo_spy

unli rice

2009-10-25T23:39:00.000-07:00

Almost all barbecue joints now offer unlimited rice. But since this craze started two years ago, I only tried it last week in Butuan City.

The unli rice promo bodes well for big rice eaters like me. But last week’s experience told me there’s something psychological about this strategy.

The place, Tatay’s Inato, was in front of Gaisano Mall. Its tables and walls were made of bamboo; its crew wore floral prints in blinding hues.

My officemates ordered halang-halang, a boiled native chicken so spicy it made customers fan their mouth with their hand. Wanting to sample the unli rice promo, I ordered a value meal tagged at P89.00 consisting of chicken and pork barbecue, an atchara that was smaller than a mound of chicken dung, a soup that tasted no better than piss sprinkled with umami, and yes, a rice so small it could only be shaped from a demitasse.

Using the price in Tandag as index, I did a quick calculation: chicken barbecue (25) plus pork barbecue (10) plus achara (5) plus soup (5) equals 45. Eighty nine minus forty five equals 44.

My rice is worth 44 pesos!

With rice selling at P5 per cup in Tandag, there’s no way I can consume over eight cups. Plain and simple, unli rice is a double whammy because it makes you pay for something that's beyond your capability to devour!

Expecting a mound, I looked askance at the solitary rice on my plate. Then my officemate pointed me to a sign tacked on a post: CLAP ONCE IF YOU NEED A WAITER; CLAP TWICE IF YOU NEED ADDITIONAL RICE!

What’s this, a Carinosa dance?

I attacked the rice with my hand. In an instant it was gone. I looked around for waiters. Nada. I clapped twice. Nothing. I clapped again. And again. A waiter in floral canary yellow print emerged from nowhere and came to our table. Using a demitasse (see?), he scooped some rice from a plastic container slung around his waist and placed it on my plate. Then he went away, not to be seen again.

Few minutes later, I clapped twice. Nothing. I clapped again. And again. A waiter in floral Hare Krishna tangerine came to our table and….you get the point!

Left with a wing, I craved for rice to munch it with. My hands rose to meet, but a fraction of an inch from each other, they stopped in mid-air. What would the other customers say, I asked myself. Hadn’t they looked my way each time I clapped? Would they know it’s my fourth time to ask?

I rested my hands beside the chicken wing that would remain uneaten. Then all at once, it hit me: hiya! this unli rice is a ploy that capitalizes on Pinoy culture of hiya!

So: it’s the reason why there’s no service station where one could quietly help himself get all the rice he wants; why waiters make themselves scarce and have to be summoned with a double clap; why rice servings come in small amounts.

Remember those parties of old when no matter how the host persuaded the guests, nobody went back to the buffet table for more food? It’s the same feeling of hiya that’s operating here. Tatay’s Inato knows that no customer would risk being branded as glutton by clapping his hands often enough.

On our way out, I realized that unless I have a face thicker than a carabao hide, the ability to clap without my hands turning red and sore, and an appetite the size of an African jungle, unli rice is not for me.

santa's quite early

2009-10-19T19:41:00.000-07:00

it seems santa's working early this year else how could you explain these things coming my way? sometimes i really wonder what have i done right to deserve all these.

to all santas out there, thank you so, so much.

jojie alcantara

2009-10-12T00:10:00.000-07:00

i met jojie eons ago--okay in the 90s---when she choreographed a fashion show in davao city where i was one of the models. in that show, i had the privilege to be the groom in the muslim wedding finale, wearing a barong made by boy ginoo, davao's pitoy moreno.

back then she was davao's most sought after fashion model from ateneo. but typical model she was not: she danced; she wrote; she read heavy stuff; she hosted corporate shows; and she was into mass media.

fast forward to 2009. i chanced upon her comment in one of the blogs i visited, and that led me to her site. through swapped emails, i learned she's now a celebrated, multi-awarded davao-based writer and photographer, which only proves she has more layers than an onion. and because she has reinvented herself so often, i now begin to suspect it's her middle name.

but what impresses me most is her advocacy to promote mindanao through her pictures and stories. that i plan to kill her from sheer envy, these pictures will show why.

tinuy-an falls

cagwait white beach

hinatuan's enchanted river; these pics made it to PAL Mabuhay!

kaliguan festival dancer

visit jojie's urls and be enthralled:

http://www.witerary.com
http://jojiealcantara.multiply.com
http://www.dabawenya.com

recent acquisitions

2009-10-03T17:47:00.000-07:00

when Ondoy unleashed its fury, i was in manila attending a trade fair at SM Megamall. organized by the congressional spouses foundation, "pamaskong handog ni kuya" featured some exporters who wanted to move their excess inventory from a lackluster export performance due to recession. that said, the products on display can't be bought under normal times as they're sold directly to foreign buyers.

and so just imagine my glee when i saw a lot of beautiful prototypes---the first product of an adopted design----on display. and the impulsive buyer in me didn't have much choice but to part with my hard-earned peso.

0O0

these pieces were from an exporter from the cordilleras. the mother-and-child is rendered in fiberglass. though these may be displayed individually, i opted to make a triptych.

0O0

mother-and-child candleholders in faux brass, from the same exporter.

0O0

another mother-and-child carved out of old, salvaged wood from the same exporter.

0O0

a drop-lamp in blown glass from another exporter

0O0

a huge blown glass vase in my favorite cobalt.

0O0

a horn of plenty in blown glass.

always a light traveller, i was encumbered in bringing these bric-a-bracs home. but no worries because now that they're on display in carefully selected spots, i feel good just by looking at them.

bugsy's exclusive birthday party

2009-10-03T04:35:00.000-07:00

for his 5th birthday, bugsy opts for an exclusive, dress-down party with family.

my son's birthday

2009-10-02T00:11:00.000-07:00

bugsy's birthday, which is october 3, falls on a Saturday. and so today---friday--- he's treating his classmates at the preschool of UCCP to some snacks and loots.

in raising bugsy as an adopted son, i take my cue from this:

On Children
Kahlil Gibran

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let our bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

bugz, no matter what, you'll grow up loved and valued by us. happy birthday!

atm

2009-09-13T22:37:00.000-07:00

it's fast becoming a mystery why ATMs, specifically those of Land Bank of the Philippines's, no longer dispense 100-peso bills. and you can't help but sympathize with depositors with less than 500 balance to go ballistic.

hosting job

2009-09-10T17:07:00.000-07:00

if you ask my friends about one thing i do best, they'll say: hosting!

and if you ask them why, they'll say: because he's spontaneous; he can work without a script and an idiot board; he can improvise; he can think quickly on his feet; and his one-liner adlibs are killers!

oh well, who am i to disagree? ha!ha!ha!ha!ha!ha!ha!

happy

2009-09-09T17:27:00.000-07:00

just this morning, i received this email:
----

Dear *insert my name here*,

Thank you for your story submission, which will be considered for the next update of FICTION on the WEB (www.fictionontheweb.co.uk). Meanwhile, please take the time out to submit comments on other people's stories, and enjoy the site!

Thanks,
Charlie

_______________________________________________
Visit Charlie Fish's FICTION on the WEB
http://www.fictionontheweb.co.uk/
-------

happy!

brochures galore

2009-09-08T23:09:00.000-07:00

finally i can exhale because after so much remote-control supervision, the drafts of the three-fold OTOP brochures i'm doing for surigao and agusan provinces are now in for final editing. just a bit of tweaking here and there (typo, layout, font, etc.) and i'm good as done. which means i can move on to other things like tago and san miguel's brochures. yay!

celebrating birthday with a difference

2009-09-07T19:02:00.001-07:00

i celebrated my birthday with less fortunate kids in my neighborhood: we had "fellowship dinner" at home, carnival rides, and eat-all-you-can at the tandag town plaza.

one with the kids!

carrousel; 15 pesos each!

rabbit ride; 15 pesos each!

elephant ride; 10 pesos each!

ferris wheel: 15 pesos each!

joy on kids' faces: PRICELESS!

duh!

2009-09-01T01:06:00.000-07:00

laverns, read my lips: there’s nothing to be sorry for; you deserve the title of mutya ng tago 2009!

detachment

2009-08-31T22:41:00.000-07:00

"Learn to detach...Don't cling to things, because everything is impermanent... But detachment doesn't mean you don't let the experience penetrate you. On the contrary, you let it penetrate fully. That's how you are able to leave it... Take any emotion--love for a woman, or grief for a loved one, or what I'm going through, fear and pain from a deadly illness. If you hold back on the emotions--if you don't allow yourself to go all the way through them--you can never get to being detached, you're too busy being afraid. You're afraid of the pain, you're afraid of the grief. You're afraid of the vulnerability that love entails. But by throwing yourself into these emotions, by allowing yourself to dive in, all the way, over your head even, you experience them fully and completely. You know what pain is. You know what love is. You know what grief is. And only then can you say, 'All right. I have experienced that emotion. I recognize that emotion. Now I need to detach from that emotion for a moment."

Mitch Albom, from Tuesdays with Morrie

feeling senti

2009-08-27T00:42:00.000-07:00

I was in Cebu from August 18 to 21 for a workshop on quality management system as our office is angling for ISO 9001:2008 certification by year end. We stayed at Golden Prince Hotel and Suites, just a hundred paces or so from Ayala Mall.

My friends, upon knowing I was where I was, sent text messages, urging me to dine at The Terrace (this one’s beautiful!) and raid Fully Booked (this one’s even more beautiful!). I went to The Terrace and Fully Booked alright, but no dining and raiding happened! For sure there were some covers, mostly by Filipino authors, that caught my eyes but I held on to my hard-earned money knowing I have gazillion unread titles stashed somewhere in my room. I bought six back-issues of My Home, though.

Ahh, but I bought shirts and jeans. Shoes and watch, too! I just realized that for over five years now I haven’t done some serious shopping for myself. (How did I survive those years? Through the benevolence of friends outside the country and yes, the ever dependable "UK" vintage.) And so I spent my 5-digit honorarium from a recent racket like it was a cellphone load that needed to be consumed else it expired.

But one thing bothered me that made me sad in a way that I couldn't explain. It just struck me that like Manila, Cebu no longer enthralls me. Could it be that I have come to realize that one can only eat so much lasagna and drink so much fancy coffee? No, scratch that; I don’t eat lasagna and drink fancy coffee.

Must be the eternal promdi in me because on the second day, I was already itching to go home and revert to the life I have long ago learned to love and like.

The Friday I was to fly home, I woke up early because I wanted to take a trip down memory lane. I rode a jeep and when it zipped past University of San Carlos, my heart skipped. My alma mater looked massive than when I first entered it 28 years ago, on a rainy Monday in June. As the jeep headed for Colon, I looked back, and with USC looming from a distance, I felt proud and grateful: If not for that school, I wouldn’t be confident to write this post in English!

Colon was another matter; the landscape had changed drastically that it looked different from the Colon of my time. Nostalgia hit me so bad that I would have wept if only I was not sitting next to an old woman fondling a rosary. I closed my eyes and then in a beautiful montage everything came back---Fairmart, Gazini, Happy Emporium, Brutus, Ding Haw, Cloud Nine, Gaw!

Sorry if I'm feeling senti today.

i wonder

2009-08-04T20:34:00.000-07:00

amidst all the fuzz about tita cory's death and funeral, i just wonder if james yap's parents were around and how did they survive it.

grammar and friends

2009-07-07T22:21:00.000-07:00

it took awhile before resty odon, a grammar police-slash-writer friend who doesn't have enough time to bloghop, to spot a grammatical error on the definition of "vignette" in my masthead.

it would be easy to say that i just copied it from Wikipedia, but that would be like not owning up, right?

yes, having two grammar Gestapos (the other one's faye) breathing down your neck is an advantage!

thanks, res.

what's keepin' me busy

2009-07-06T22:44:00.001-07:00

finally, the tarp's done!

paintings

2009-06-28T01:52:00.001-07:00

i recently commissioned a budding local painter for two works of art and i'm happy with what i got. at four digits each, they're quite costly for an unknown artist but hey, it's not every day that you can feed your soul this way.

and there goes my chance to visit an asian destination this year! but come to think of it: i have some "racket" up my sleeve that i've been putting off for quite a time already! and so if you'll excuse me, i just have to make a call.